Seventh Circle
by Kiwikiwi3
Summary: A year after the events of Portal 2. Wheatley is roughly delivered back into the arms of his ever-so-gracious nemesis, GLaDOS, and she's got a wonderful surprise for him...until the Oracle Turret lets her in on something even better.
1. Out of Orbit

[FACT: The average distance between the Earth and its only natural satellite, the Moon, is 385,000 km. It would take the world's fastest car (the Bugatti Veyron, which clocks in at 119 meters/second) approximately 37.45 days at top speed to go from ground level on Earth to the lunar surface.]

~~~~~

"Ooh, hey! Ooh, hey! Purple ball! Look! Look! Look! Algorab!"

"Fact: Corvis was flung into the sky by Apollo for failing to fetch him water. Both Apollo and Corvis were fat and lazy from all the figs lying around, and even to this day, modern Greeks wonder how strong the sun chariot was to carry both of them and the sun around."

"I wouldn't need a chariot! I coulda carried the sun around by myself if they asked me."

"Fact: Adventure Sphere could not carry the sun and the moon back and forth across the sky because he is overestimating his strength and powers over gravitational pulls."

"Are you sayin' I can't, ya little purple idjit?"

"Alchiba! It's so bright…maybe it's gonna go nova! NOVA!"

"Fact: Novae are the universe's second greatest stealers of hydrogen and helium molecules. The first are balloons."

"Oh, oh, oh! Virgo's over there! The whole thing! Look, sleepy blue ball! Over there!"

"How can you even see that sort of thing out here with all these stars, you little yellow nutcase?"

The babbling sphere with the yellow optic – dubbed the Space Sphere by the Fact Sphere – spun his inner core about as he narrated its movements. "Ohhhhh…I'm the best at space. I know it ALL. Look. Look at Earth. Now look at the stars. Now look back at Earth. Now look back at the staaaaaaaaaaaaaars."

"And, go on, ya loon."

"The stars are back into the same place they had been when we were launched out here…that means a whole earth year has passed! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

"Fact: Every Personality Core has an internal calendar in order marked with preset reminders to tell them the approximate time Aperture Science Laboratories will be destroyed, or how long their battery life would be at optimal power."

_Has it been a year,_ Wheatley silently mused to himself. _A whole year's time…_

He checked his internal calendar. Yup, one year, on the dot. He wondered what had happened once he and the other spheres had been launched out into space though that portal…

_I wonder how many times she's tried to escape without me since then? Has she even managed to get through a little crack in the wall, or has She locked her in tight this time?_

"Ooh, ooh! Not a star! Not a star!"

Wheatley turned his optic back to stare collectively at Earth; he was almost there at about halfway between the moon and earth but still so far away. He missed her so much...he should've listened to that nagging voice that did nothing but call him stupid when he was truly wrong and told him to spare her...it remembered that her and him were friends, that she should've been spared and saved. That particular voice had been silent as of late, having diminished almost as quickly as his precise memory of her face not twisted in a 'determined to stop him from his own madness' expression.

"Hey! That's a space rock!"

Oh, Rick...he needed to shut it. They all needed to shut it. The only downside of being a Personality Core was that you never had to sleep...and so those three never slept. They just kept babbling with each other.

And they called him a moron.

He shut off his audio transceivers; couldn't he just lament his stupidity in peace for once?

...Had he known that all he needed to do was urn off the bloody things he would've done so ages ago.

_Would've been nice to know last year, it would've._

"METEOR! !"

"Ooh, those're some steel girders, too! Looks like they're up for a fight! Let's give'em the old one-two, ya little yellow-eyed loon! You too, purple eye and blue eye!"

"Fact: Aperture Science Personality Cores do not have hands or feet capable of combat against steel girders or meteorites. They do, however, have extremely tough outer shells."

_It's so beautiful up here, really…I bet she'd love to see it, ya know, without all the looming death and bomb injuries and me being a massive monster. Ooh, where would the lab be down there? I wonder if I could actually zoom in that far with my optic being damaged…_

"C'mere and wrestle like a real steel beam! Put up your dukes, you and your rogue rock friend there!"

"Fact: We are going to collide with the meteorite and its orbiting space trash in 3…2…1…"

Unaware of the shouting, Wheatley continued trying to see if he could locate the Aperture Science building from orbit…not that he could, but it would at least give him some comfort that maybe he could see if the place was still active. Why it mattered…well, maybe he might catch a brief glimpse of that little jumpy mute in action, torturing Her…that…that would make-

WHAM!

A large, pointy…something…drove itself into his frame, sticking into him and knocking him forwards towards earth at breakneck speed.

"!"

_WARNING: Core damage at 53 percent. Hull damage at 10 percent. For an unknown reason the Management Rail Dangerous Object Removal Claw cannot be reached. Please try to dislodge the foreign object by shaking it loose, manually moving to a local Management Rail Dangerous Object Removal Claw and signaling it again, or just killing yourself by dislodging from the Manangement Rail. You will be put into a new Personality Core shell to continue on with your work, and a team of nanobots will arrive at your destroyed location to move the unsightly mess of your disfigured Core to the Turret Redemption Line. Thank you._

"Space rock, come baaaack! TAKE ME WITH YOUUUUUU!" Space Core screamed and flailed about, causing enough momentum to make what would have been a grazing blow from a torn panel absolutely nil. "Hello space trash! Would you like to be friends?"

Wheatley spun his inner core about, only managing to lodge it deeper, and now underneath his right 'arm' and locking his inner core in place. He tried to push his optic back to knock the offending object out of alignment, but only managed to cut through the rubber insulation of several wires.

"NO! NONONONO! AHHH!"

_WARNING: Core damage at 79 percent. Hull damage at 25 percent. It is advised that you leap from the rail to your death unless you have found a Management Rail Dangerous Object Removal Claw at this time._

"THAT'S IT, BLUE BOY! TAKE'EM DOWN! TAKE! HIM! DOWN! INTO THE ATMOSPHERE! BURN HIM TO A CRISP! WE GOT THAT ROCK'S POSSE FOR YA, DON'T YOU WORRY!"

He was cruising for the Earth, wasn't he? Wheatley edged what he could of his optic to the corner of his chassis, looking out from the corner not forced into his left 'arm'. Earth was getting much closer, and the speed was ramping up. He was hitting the edge of the Thermosphere, and the gravitational pull was kicking in, drawing him even closer.

Then came the Mesosphere.

_WARNING: Hull temperature rising to a dangerously high level. If you are on the Turret Redemption Line, and you are not scheduled for redemption, we are sorry to hear that you are stuck on it. Assume the proper Turret Redemption Line position and when you are safely and securely deposited into the Turret Redemption Receptacle, all you have to do is sit and wait for your power to shut itself off and you will be placed into a substitute Core, provided this trip on the Turret Redemption Line was the result of a freak accident. Thank you for your patience and sorry for the inconvenience._

Wheatley clamped his optic guard shut; he didn't want his already damaged optic catching on fire or something worse. He could feel the fire dancing around his hull, burning away the intruding space rock. The rate at which he was falling was…slowing? Probably the meteor burning away left him with less speed…the burning heat was starting to melt the edges of his hull, too…that meteorite was completely burned away on the outside, and he could move again!

As he moved his inner core about, he made an effort to guard his little rock injury to keep the fire from creeping inside.

Whoosh!

As he dropped through the ozone layer, the small fires that had broken out on his hull began petering out, and he opened his upper optic guard and peaked through.

He was freefalling towards…towards North America! Something small danced within his damaged circuits; he was heading near about where he could remember Aperture Science being…

_WARNING: Your height above the Aperture Science Testing Facility is too high. In the event that gravity has been reversed, then God help you. If your altitude is due to a test gone awry, then this warning should be neglected, as you are descending back towards the facility._

"I'M COMING! HOLD ON!" He screamed as loud as his speakers could transmit. Even if she couldn't hear him, he hoped she still desired to leave.


	2. Where Lying Liars Lie

A/N:

This will be the spot where I reply to you reviewers. Review and I will do everything I can, sans spoilering, to respond!

_neko-hime-cfi_: Yes, go Wheatley go! =3 And I don't know if you can tell, but the Announcer is my favorite part of the "nostalgia" levels. Smooth jazz will be deployed...

Anon: Glad you're intrigued. Hope you stick around.

Now, on with the show.

[FACT: Though the polygraph exam is the most commonly used and most trusted lie detector test, its actual accuracy rating has been measured by a group of psychologists as being as low as 61%.]

~~~~~

As Orange and Blue raced their way through yet another easily-constructed test, scientifically re-engineered from parts of a few less time-consuming and less hazardous tests that she had built a few hours ago, GLaDOS couldn't help but wonder if maybe there wasn't a few humans in that giant freezer she couldn't just pluck out and-

CRASH!

The roof in Quadrant B became perforated by what looked to be a metal bullet, a screaming one at that. It plunged deep in and blew through several Testing Facility Cubes, destroying them all to some extent, before smashing into a thick titanium wall, denting it, and finally dropping about and rolling down a catwalk.

"CHELLLLLLLLLLLL!"

_Oh, that voice…_

She instantly summoned a Management Rail Dangerous Object Removal Claw to pick the sparking, charred, and dented sphere off the catwalk, then summoned Orange and Blue's reconfiguration tubes to reassemble them right outside her chambers. She wanted a small spectacle.

Wheatley flailed with all he had left, trying desperately to spot Chell inside one of the Testing Facility Cubes, just a flicker. Maybe her running across a catwalk in an act of fleeing. But nothing. Nothing at all. "Chell! CHELL!" Maybe screaming for her wasn't the best idea; she likely wanted nothing to do with him, after he tried to kill her and all. He didn't even have his audio transceivers back online; he shuddered and tried not to think about the possibility that she did cry out for him while he couldn't hear her.

GLaDOS found his response to the environment...interesting. His only current response to being in the test facility was...to seek out the test subject he had tried to murder? Had he enjoyed it that much...?

"Oh look, it's the moron." Orange and Blue could only stand back and watch Wheatley spill sparks around in a mix of awe and disgust. His other handlebar looked to be coming loose as GLaDOS seemed to revel in jerking him about slightly. "I was wondering why the space trash was screaming. Normally it knows better to keep its little idiot mouth shut."

She sent a coded relay to Orange and Blue, and they reacted by standing at attention. "This is what happens when technology strays too far from the active preservation of Science. They let the nuclear reactor catch fire and the building almost explode and let Science hang out in the breeze, neglected. Unwanted. We can't have those sorts of things here, can we?" The two seemed to cringe and shake their cores in a 'no' gesture. "No, we can not. We must preserve Science, or risk being shot out into space by mute lunatics with portal guns."

"She's got a mild case of severe brain damage; I don't think she knew what she was d-"

Wheatley gulped audibly, his optic narrowing down to a tiny dot as GLaDOS gave him a little shake.

"Better. As I was saying, we must preserve Science, and when we do not, we get shot into the vacuum of space and burn up slightly in the atmosphere and break apart in our crash landings. I only know this from observation, mind you. I know how to preserve Science, and therefore have never had to be shot into the vacuum of space or burn up in the atmosphere or break apart in a crash landing. I just thought that, since you two have been acting quite human lately and statistically speaking most destroyers of Science are humans, it would be a good time to remind you both of what we are doing and what happens when we do not. You may go now, back to testing."

The duo exploded and were promptly rebuilt in the hub, leaving GLaDOS alone with Wheatley.

"So...no hard feelings, I guess...?" Wheatley nervously joked.

Her claw shot upwards, leaving very little room between GLaDOS's optic and Wheatley's optic. She narrowed hers ever so slightly, as it made him squirm and rattle his gyros a bit in order to look small and unworthy of her time. Of course, he was already both of these, but she enjoyed reminding him of that.

"You put me in a potato, destroyed this facility, and nearly blew everything up due to your vast incompetence. While her and I were on our way to pulling you out of my body, I thought of so many things I could do to you once I got my claws on you. I thought sending you out into the vacuum of space would be enough for you, but since you're here and you already set on fire and likely already froze in the vacuum of space, I think I'll just skip to the last part."

Wheatley began screaming as she summoned a pneumatic transport tube. "I find it unfortunate that you don't seem to find this as enjoyable as I do. At least you're getting a free ride to a very special layer of Android Hell. It's specially built, just for you. You should feel honored." She held Wheatley under the tube and turned the engine on, sucking the screaming Core out of the room and down into the pit she began revamping especially for him the picosecond she realized it was him.

~~~~~

WHOOSH~

All he could do was look around frantically, trying to see if he could spot Chell running around. Amidst all the simulated agony and internal system shutdowns, it was the one thing he could hold onto and focus on while tumbling around in the transport tube.

After what seemed like he was floating forever through the tube, he felt gravity strike him and drop him unceremoniously into a damp room. Bits of water sloshed up against his broken outer hull, and despite the fact that it was cold and actually soothing, it made him flail his handlebars and shout.

A loud and bright spark shot from one of the holes, making him immediately shoot out one of his panels, bringing himself to a sudden stop.

An overhead speaker clicked on, and the small red light of an observation camera beamed down into the darkness.

"I hope you enjoyed the trip, for this's your last stop. You know, I could just disassemble you and simply forget to put you back together in another part of the facility; it's simple to. I almost did that to Blue at some point, in fact. So easy with all the hard work maintaining this facility takes, all those little processes your tiny little processors couldn't even begin to siphon through while you had my body hijacked. The ones like 'make sure the nuclear reactor doesn't explode' and 'don't take apart perfectly good tests and smash them together like a human boy with little metal toy cars.' Those things. But I think sitting you in this pool of water and letting your little surprise entertain you until the end of time is a much better option."

Dozens of red tracking beams flickered on in the dark, zooming right in on him. Wheatley's optic narrowed down to a single dot, shifting around madly to make sure even just one of them wasn't shooting at them.

They all dropped their tracking lights, leaving their optics lit, and shrieked at once in a cacophony of wails, causing Wheatley's audio transceivers to become overloaded and shoot a blinding arc of simulated pain through the circuits still functioning.

"AHHHHH~! STOP! STOP SCREAMING!" He curled his handlebars around himself, letting his hull roll onto its side and letting the water short out the barely exposed transceiver. "Oh thank god I'm half-deaf..." He muttered to himself as he closed his optic shield and tried desperately to drown the sound out with a flurry of horrible ideas. At least that was still running.

~~~~~

Deep in the facility, the Oracle Turret, as it had been rumored to have been called by the strange blind and scrapped turrets on the Redemption Line, awoke from her stasis. She stirred, remembering where she was, and for a moment, had no clue why she was awake. She didn't have bullets, so it wasn't like she could shoot anyone.

A flicker in her circuits changed her mind, and she began to speak the seemingly non-sensical thought she had.

"The slumbering Ahab shudders at the sound far below; he knows his fate is sealed."

~~~~~

GLaDOS picked up the rogue voice from a far off transceiver and her attention drew to it. She activated a speaker near the small, useless robot.

"What was that?"

"He dreams of only the days before his descent into the cold, wet darkness he now thrives in, lamenting his defeat at the feet of the grand white whale."

GLaDOS wasn't quite sure why, of all times, the little bullet-less pile of circuits was babbling about fictional characters. But given what Chell had tried miming to her during their time together in the underground, she had gathered that the little thing only spoke when it knew something. Now she was curious; she was talking about a murderously savage fictional character after all.

"Go on."

Was she suggesting there was such a human in cryosleep? She would've found him by now; she needed a dangerous human around, even if she wouldn't admit it. Well, if he was defeated, maybe not quite as dangerous. But obviously determined. She liked that.

"So, hypothetically speaking, does this Ahab have a name, other than Ahab? You know, something I might have on file? This Ahab sounds like...an interesting read."

"His name lies in shadows, hidden, but bountiful within."

Shadows? GLaDOS searched every database she could grasp, and within a few seconds, she found files that she could not access. Surely this is what the little bulletless turret meant. A few more seconds was all it took to crack the 128-digit encrypted code; they should have coded it better.

Within laid schematics and documents regarding Personality Constructs built in a style that she was aware of; the giant pile of corrupted ones she had encountered before, the pile that little moron surely had belonged to at some point. and as she glazed over the gigabytes and gigabytes of information that made her wish she had done more than just simply neurotoxined everyone inside to a swift painless death, she found herself encountering a name over and over again. A name which, in a quick cross-reference, belonged to one of the humans she had found.

But he was labeled 'inactive'; damaged beyond repair, and rendered untestable by her own standards, and had been moved into the back of the storage wing with the rest of the critically damaged humans.

"He sounds like an interesting human...but he's currently as dangerous to me as a room full of neurotoxin."

"His only hope lies dying beneath you."

GLaDOS felt like scowling. This little turret had piqued her interest in a very dangerous human, but she'd have to stop torturing the moron in order to obtain the dangerous human.

She scanned over his files again, finding nothing particularly special about him...except a few tiny details that made all the difference.

She closed every file for a moment, and focused her attention to the Oracle Turret.

"I am going to let you stay in my chamber and tell me all your little stories while I set up a game. so, commence story time."

~~~~~

The fluid - which upon observation looked like water laced with a reddish dirt or possibly rust - began sloshing with Wheatley's every panicked jitter, shorting out more and more panels inside. Having gone blind and half deaf from the waterlogging, he was shocked to feel the sensation of being sucked up into the air and through another tube. Without warning, he could feel what remained untouched shut off, and for a few fractions of a second, he sensed his demise.


	3. In Mortal Recoil

A/N: I profusely apologize for the delay of this chapter. ...In my defense, they wouldn't shut up. _. Anyways, thank you for the reviews, neko-hime-cfi, Lieju, and Amythista.

Also, to Sailex: I've heard numerous theories as to how long Chell was under, but I'm going to go with the "she wasn't under for quite that long, but she was under for long enough." theory as my official take for this fic. The Half-Life universe is pretty screwed up with apocalypses and wars, and Aperture could've easily taken hits while everyone was taking cryo-naps, so. Onwards with fic! Enjoy!

In Mortal Recoil

[FACT: Symptoms of Dissociative Identity Disorder include, but are not limited to, unexplainable headaches, severe memory loss coinciding with vivid flashbacks of traumatic events, auditory hallucinations whose origin lies within one's mind, frequent panic and/or anxiety attacks, and a compulsive need to align spaces and objects.]

~~~~~

"_Why...hello there, little girl! Have you run off from the daycare? You're not supposed to be in the Robotics wing!"_

_Walking around a desk with a half-built sphere atop it, he moved softly towards the eerie child in the white dress. He then knelt down as far as he could, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder and shifting his safety goggles up to his forehead._

"_I saw you in a dream, mister. I've been trying to find you." Her voice was soft and meek, barely above a whisper, but he could hear her clearly. A shudder ran up his spine. This was the one, wasn't it? He wondered what else she had to say, but didn't speak the thought._

"_Oh have you? ...Where's your daddy? Or perhaps your mom? We should get you back to them; there's a lot of heavy metal things that could fall on your head and kill you..."_

"_You were on a boat, trying to toss a harpoon into a big white whale..."_

_The allusion was not lost on him for a moment. She was supposed to be on the complete opposite side of the building; how did she get over here...? Did the security guards fall asleep again?_

"_Hun, do you want something to snack on while I call your dad to come and get you?" He got up and slowly walked backwards to wards a phone. "I have some fruit wraps, Girard's got some gummi bears that look like little squishy stars in his desk that I can get for you if you like those...they taste like lemons!"_

_He was normally calm, but this little ten year-old girl...was trouble. He didn't want to hear what she knew, what she could see...not with it already starting as it did._

"_You were mad at her because you broke her and it hurt you that you did it...but that harpoon's rope is tied around your ankle..."_

_Another male in a labcoat; a familiar face, with a clipboard in hand. He wondered how the 'lunar colonization initiative' was doing, but that wasn't the most important matter at the moment._

"_Girard! Wonderful timing! Please, please bring Aislin back over to her quarters."_

"_She freakin' you out, boss?" The shorter male with the short blonde hair grinned. "I got your back." He picked the girl up and walked over to a nearby desk, pulling out a bag of gummi chews._

"_You're going to be on the moon someday. Briefly."_

"_Oh really? Sounds wonderful! Tell me more while we head back to your room..." Girard looked back at his frantic boss and winked, shutting the door behind them._

_He collapsed to the floor, taking several deep breaths. Third time this month she'd gotten somewhere else in the facility and told someone something relating to something deep and dark that they hadn't divulged to others...she was starting to get a terrifying reputation, that girl..._

_He looked up at the desk and wondered if she was right..._

~~~~~

Wheatley's optic shot open, unsure of what he had just witnessed in his temporary moment of stasis. It felt rather real to him, although he was certain it was an illusion, because if he had ever encountered a live test subject like that in the building, he was certain he would have just shut the little bugger up and sent it back to its relaxation chamber.

He suddenly realized that he wasn't in pain, and he could see twice as well once he opened a similarly placed and sized second optic and he could hear just fine. ...She uploaded him into another Core...? No, there was more to this Core than just that; except it was completely numb and freezing; an android skeleton chock full of stimuli receptors, likely.

What was She up to...? She was trying to murder him, and then She stopped and stuck him in a freezing cold android shell? He didn't understand any of it, and it made him nervous.

Then he noticed the breathing. It had gotten heavier as he panicked, but once he noticed it and tried to focus on what in the hell was going on with his torso that it had to do that, it slowed right back down to normal. This was a rather realistic shell, indeed. It also featured a pump and valves for transporting hydraulic fluids right where he could recall a human heart being...stunning. He wasn't sure why She had deemed him worthy of such an advanced technological marvel if She just planned on murdering him...

"Oh, you're awake much faster than planned..."

He could've sworn that he didn't send a command to anything in this body to move, but it did so all by itself. The body activated every piston and cord required for movement, then wildly and inefficiently cranked every hydraulic it could to curl up into the nearest corner, behind an operating table.

"Oh good, you're moving just fine. You're recovering nicely from cryosleep. Good morning. The sun is shining very brightly today on this very special occasion, welcoming you back into the world."

He also could've sworn that he was the only sense of consciousness in this shell, but apparently not...

_[Why is GLaDOS still operating? Where am I? Is this another nightmare?]_

The voice sounded vaguely familiar to Wheatley, but it seemed like a fog was hiding it; his typical mental fog caused by excessive thought pattern refractors and cognitive suppressors that were littered throughout his core's inner hull was barely there, but even this was perplexing him. Where had he heard the voice before...?

_[What are you? Are you one of her toys? Get out of my head!]_

Again, without his command, the shell twitched and sprung to life, this time both its hands began clawing at his head, trying to pry it open.

"Oh, prying your head open isn't a good idea. You'll leak blood and die, and then we won't get to have fun together."

Ignoring Her banter and continuing his own thoughts, Wheatley wasn't sure what this strange subroutine-type thing was, but he certainly didn't like to be thought of as one of Her toys. She wanted him dead...or at least locked up in this murderous shell with a sub-routine that disliked his presence.

...This was probably a more fitting torture than shorting out in a puddle of rusty water to Her...

With the last thought in his mind, the hands stopped tearing at the myriad cords latched to his head, falling slowly back to his sides.

_[She's not God, whatever you are. GLaDOS is just an angry woman in a big metal coffin.]_

"Good, Nathan. I'm glad that you've come to your senses about the whole killing yourself thing."

His head and eyes worked in tandem to spot the camera, and curled away from it when he did.

_[I will not let that monster find me...]_

The voice sounded familiar...where was it from?

_[You...know my voice? Are you...a Core?]_

Wheatley perked up. Yes, of course he was!

_[What core are you, then?]_

"...we'll be running a lot of tests together now that you're awake. I've read from your file that you're not in the greatest physical shape but I can work around that; my last subject was a fat orphan..."

It could read his thoughts? Maybe thinking the answers would be better...

_[Yes, think your answers, I'll hear you. Please answer me; this question's important. are you a Mark I or Mark II Personality Core?]_

_(I'm...Mark II, I think.)_

A feeling of elation shot through his body in response.

_[Which one?]_

He didn't want to admit to a stranger who felt happy to hear from him...

_(I'm the...Intell-...igence...Damp-...ining...Core-UGH. I'm not a moron, really. Just call me Wheatley.)_

"...an increase in testing demand means I'm cutting down on safety measures, but Science productivity will be at a maximum..."

Ignoring Her chattering once more in light of the subroutine's conversing, Wheatley felt amused; well, the circuitry within him sent signals of amusement. But he wasn't amused, himself. Was this subroutine laughing at him? How dare it! He was sick of everyone getting a good laugh at good ol' Wheatley!

_[Calm down, Wheatley. I'm not laughing at you, I'm just...well, pleased by my luck. My name is Nathan, Nathan Spurling. Does that ring a bell?]_

_('Fraid not, Nathan.)_

_[That's...that's interesting. Not good. Well, not something I can dwell on too much; since someone has seen to it to awaken me before GLaDOS was finally taken down, she'll likely be trying to kill me very very soon.]_

_(Well, it's not like she doesn't want me dead, too. So...why don't we just set up a jail break?)_

_[Already three steps ahead of you. No offense, but this's probably going to happen often to you with me.]_

"...Thermal Discouragement Beams will be set to maximum output to ensure maximum response from buttons and turrets, Aerial Faith Plates will be re-calibrated to your miniscule weight to launch you faster and farther, and the Weighted Storage Cube will contain more weights to ensure that when they are placed down, they will better affect the 1500 Megawatt Heavy Duty Super-Colliding Super Button..."

Wheatley chose not to respond to either of the voices he heard; upon review of the earlier response, he had become perplexed by the notion that the subroutine was 'awakened'. Could a subroutine be awakened...?

_[You're in my head, asking me this question?]_

_(...this isn't an android-style construct I'm in?)_

_[Of course not. You're in my body.]_

All Wheatley could think to do was scream in terror. Out loud.

Wheatley's audio trans-...his ears, rather- picked up the sound of his own panicked scream to find that the voice the body emitted was almost the same as his own. He instinctively clasped one hand over his mouth, and another over his throat, his eyes widening.

"Why are you screaming? All humans love to test."

_(That was my voice, coming out of your body! How absolutely mind-boggling!)_

_[On the contrary; you're using my voice whenever you speak. Just a part of the programming. Glad to see that's intact, if not any memory of who I am.]_

"You two aren't even listening to the valuable information I'm giving you that will keep you alive, are you?"

_[Stop lying, you massive c-]_

_(I DON'T WANT TO DIE SO SHUT UP! I CAN'T HEAR HER OVER YOU!)_

_[She's only lying to you. She's not going to keep us alive any longer than she wants to.]_

"-I've found you a nice warm jumpsuit that's big enough for you to wear, so you stay nice and warm while we go through the tests. You humans always get so cold in here..."

_[Something warm to wear would be nice, seeing as how I'm down to my underwear.]_

_(Shush.)_

"-the bathing facilities in the top right corner of your room. I hope you listened this time, because I won't repeat myself again. I have some co-operative tests to run for about three days. I'll let you two shake off all the cryofreeze icicles while I do that. I've locked both of the exit doors, so just spend time enjoying a temporary freedom, getting to know each other."

The speaker shut off, leaving them in silence.

_[She'll be cutting our 'freedom' time short, so let's get everything done as quickly as possible.]_

_(Wh-what? What kinds of things are we doing?)_

_(I'm going to clean myself up and get dressed...just let me do everything, okay?)_

Nathan lifted his body off the floor and stood upright, then began sauntering as fast as his still-thawing muscles would take him. Wheatley couldn't help but marvel at the fact that his perception of objects was slightly higher up than while in Her body. Most times he had just hung himself about six feet off the ground, but even with a slight slumping in frame, Nathan's perspective was a few inches higher up.

_[Yes, thank you for noticing I'm tall. I was just shy of 192 centimeters last time I got a check up...can't remember the conversion at the moment. Don't really care, actually.]_

Nathan seemed rather annoyed...

_(My apologies. I just...I've found it something of a habit that my height and perspective changes every bloody time something happens around here.) _

_[It's fine. I'm just a little irritated and jumpy now. I could use some music...or at least a chance to scrub up. I feel so...dirty...]_

_(...Fine. You humans always need to keep clean, anyways. I'm...just going to collect what thoughts I still can claim to be mine.)_

A slight twitch in the right corner of Nathan's mouth held in place for a second as a minor wave of elation filled Wheatley's senses. What a small display for such a wonderful emotion.

_[Why bother? Never did anyways, and who am I impressing? Everyone's probably dead.]_

_(No, no! Everyone was quite alive when I last saw them!)_

"_Okay, listen, we should get our stories straight, alright? If anyone asks - and no one's gonna ask, don't worry - but if anyone asks, tell them as far as you know, the last time you checked, everyone looked pretty much alive. Alright? Not dead."_

_[...You're a horrible liar.]_

_(Okay, yes, I am. I forgot...you can probably get to all my memories. But, but! She's still alive, last time I checked. I promise, not lying.)_

Nathan stopped just shy of the bathroom door.

_[...She?]_

_(Her name is Chell. Here, since you can see my memories, I'll send you a few of her.)_

Images of Chell from numerous angles at different points of their meetings flickered through his mind, instantaneously transferring to Nathan.

_[...Ooh...]_

Nathan went stiff, and a warm tingle rushed through him, a seemingly familiar feeling. He stopped transferring immediately, leaving Nathan rather speechless.

_[She's...beautiful. Like an angel. Is she here? She's wearing a test jumpsuit...]_

_(She's in this facility somewhere...hopefully. We need to get her out of here. I owe it to her to get her out.)_

_[I wonder how'd she repay me if I did that for her? Ooh, I could only guess...]_

_(If she found out I was in your body, she'd probably kill you.)_

_[Ooh, she's feisty, eh?]_

_(No, just murderous towards constructs that try to kill her, regardless on their original intent...)_

Nathan leaned forwards, resting his left arm against the door's frame and biting his lip. His body temperature was rising, his breathing heavier, and what little fabric he was wearing around his waist was starting to feel a bit snug; Wheatley was beginning to worry if this human was ill.

A tingling sensation rushed through his entire frame; a sensation so incredibly familiar to the Personality Core that he feared his assumption of what was happening was true. He sat cautiously, observing from outside the dominion of the consciousness where the 'Nathan' entity seemed to reside, keeping guard and doing his best to resist the waves of incoming warmth and pleasure he could feel bubbling up.

_[God, I'm so hot under the collar and I'm not even wearing a shirt right now...not something I should be preoccupied with, but...]_

_(...Should I not have done that?)_

_[Actually...quite happy you did. If you don't mind, I'd like to...'wake up', so to speak.]_

_(What do you mean?)_

Nathan assumed control and stumbled through the bathroom's door, half-tossing himself at the nearby wall, and a strange and twisted image started to transmit from his consciousness to Wheatley's.

Wheatley watched in pure curiosity as the image of a generic Relaxation Center room formed, his point of view seemingly being that of him lying or resting against the headboard of the bed, the rest of his body lying straight outwards. Chell sat at the end of the bed, giving him a rather interesting look as she bit her lip. She had begun to look him up and down and gave a pleased look before she reached up to her ponytail and yanked off the band keeping it together. Shaking her head softly dispersed the black locks around her head in a wave which fell around her face and rested upon her shoulders in a rather straight, limp manner.

Unsure of what Nathan was hoping to achieve, but feeling a creeping sensation of dire need rising up through the human's body, Wheatley braced himself as Nathan breathed heavily, his body sliding down the wall slowly as the physical effects that had already begun continued. A subconscious motion of his right hand down towards the somewhat stretched cloth.

_[Mmm, yes...I know we've not properly met but...feel like coming closer?]_

The mini reverie continued, and the Chell within it seemed to respond to his contemplation, scooting up between the space left vacant by his legs having been spread out slightly.

_[Perhaps a little show first?]_

_(What are you doing...?)_

The 'reverie-Chell' that was being mutually shared between the two separated consciousnesses began to tug off the white tank top she wore in response, ever so slowly and...seductively. The look in her eyes was starting to bother Wheatley; he didn't recall anything quite like that look ever existing in the woman's eyes before, and it seemed so out of place even now.

The reverie of Chell quickly slipped off her tank top and began abandoning her blue undershirt for some odd reason as the poor fabric strapped to Nathan's waist was stretched tighter by the ever-growing bulge between his upper thighs. The situation was clearly getting out of hand, but the steady stream of chemical elation and subconscious biological functionings had fallen far out of his own control; base impulses that seemingly refused to stop, that seemed to drag the poor human down into the current. This was not a test by any means, but this burning, lingering chemical rush was very clearly some sort of organic 'itch' mechanism that he feared was the cause of the current situation; as equally a distraction to this human as the cybernetic counterpart had been to him. Wheatley worried that he wouldn't be able to shake him out of it, but continued observing to see if he could find some sort of loophole in the system.

A sudden invigorated boost burst of chemical euphoria flooded the AI's consciousness as Chell finally stripped off the bottom cloth, revealing teardrop-shaped breasts, which bounced delicately as she discarded the powder blue covering with a single whip of her arm. At the ends, a circular patch of stiffening reddened flesh topped them off; he had seen this part of the female body disrobed before while making the rounds in the Relaxation Center, but they were typically soft looking and lightly rounded, not all crinkly and pointy like how Chell's appeared. He became unsure if Nathan was shocked or pleased by the appearance of them, but all the while the roaming hand continued down towards his own clothing as if to discard them as well.

_[Come a bit closer, Chell...yes...]_

The image of Chell began to lean forwards and crawl upon her hands and knees in a seductive manner as Nathan began sliding that cloth around his waist down to reveal the ever-enlarging mass within.

Nathan then reached down and grabbed the oddly pointy tube of swollen reddened flesh that had quickly sprung to life once exposed to the air. In tandem, the reverie continued, as Chell began leaning downwards, licking her lips and leaving them agape slightly as her eyes beamed with a strange, predatory glimmer. She leaned down and forwards, her head seeming to travel down the same path as Nathan's hand while Nathan reached down and grabbed a hold of the-

_(STOP! STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP IT THIS INSTANT!)_

_[GODDAMMIT!]_

Nathan quickly stopped his movements and the image dissipated, and Nathan curled up in a ball, clutching his head.

_[WHAT THE FUCK?]_

Nathan's body emitted a sickly sounding moan as he tried to uncurl; a nasty flow of pain enveloped both consciousnesses for a brief moment before subsiding.

_(No more euphoria, absolutely not...)_

If he could have rocked back and forth softly with a gentle wiggle of his internal gyros, handlebars tightly wrapped around his outer hull, he would have. He was terrified and shaking and mortified by Nathan's emotional, biological, and mental responses to just mere images, and he wanted out before it got any worse.

_[AUGH...what...ow. What happened? Wait, what? Euphoria? I'm sorry, start over, all this...ugh, what did I …?]_

_(Thank goodness you're not corrupted enough yet! I was getting worried, what with all that...wandering.)_

_[I'm sorry, I don't think my body's quite in balance yet with all the little things it does. Got carried away. ...Are you alright? I'm feeling nauseous and terrified, and I think that's all you because I have nothing I'm thinking of that could possibly relate to either.]_

Nathan slowly gathered himself and stood up carefully as his body slowly regressed back to its original state.

_[Here we go...]_

_(...You're going to get addicted like I did. Please be careful, I don't want to think I've compromised this body with my presence.)_

_[...What are you going on about?]_

_(The 'itch'. You were getting it pretty badly...though you recovered well after I shouted, so I guess you're not heavily laden with it...euphoria addiction appears to only be minimal, thank goodness...I really hope this isn't Her idea of a bad joke; sticking the heavily-addicted me in your poor frail human head and wrecking the joint up...augh, don't think about it, you moron...)_

_[Addicted? Euphoria? ...oh god no...]_

"_...So you want to make the murder machine a testing junkie, boss?"_

_Nathan's voice shook with uncertainty as he addressed the balding man in front of him._

"_You've been listening to Doug too much, Nathan. You're my intern, not his."_

"_I know I'm just working on my BA and I only took one class on psychiatry, but that...doesn't sound all that good, especially when you talk about a decreased payload. You think she's murderous now?"_

_Nathan's voice grew more and more nervous, and he scratched the back of his neck._

"_I don't pay you a few bucks under the table to think, boy. I recruited you because you're eager and you got a good chance at actually working here, unlike all your dumbass classmates!"_

"_Ugh...thank you sir."_

"_So get back to work. This discussion is over."_

_[...You didn't. You didn't do it. Please tell me you didn't do that already.]_

_(Do what?)_

"_This will be the solution, team. Forced Core transfer; once we corrupt her enough and pop her out, we just input a non-corrupt Mark I Core and voila! No more random neurotoxin vents popping out of the walls!"_

_(If I wanted to lie to you, I would. But Chell and I did, much to her pain. And mine. Quite a bit of mine. A lot of mine, but I was more than willing to share some with her...augh.)_

Now standing fully on his feet, Nathan gave a guttural growl and slammed his fist into the wall, a dull thunk shuddering from inside the wall as Nathan winced.

_[FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! JUST FUCKING ACES!]_

Wheatley was unsure if he was screaming obscenities at him or at the wall at this point.

_[SHE KNOWS WHAT I PLANNED TO DO NOW! FUCK! WE'RE FUCKED!]_

The screaming was actually starting to hurt, even though it wasn't even vocalized. There was pain, and anger, frustration...and fear. Unadulterated fear. It was burning through him and it hurt. Badly.

_[I'm going to die in here...]_

_(If Chell can live and thrive in here like she had, then we'll be just fine. We'll make it out of here. She's probably giving Her trouble right now as we speak...metaphorically speaking, that is.)_

_[Maybe. Right now, all I can do is take care of myself and plan. I have to stop having these horrid mood swings, they're starting to drive me nuts. I hope this's temporary; I don't like not being level-headed and in control of my emotions, ya know?]_

_(Oh, completely understandable.)_

He looked in the mirror and frowned as the two soft blue shaded eyes examined the brownish-orange patches of short hair covering most of the lower half of his face.

_[Ugh, I'm starting to look like Doug after a project...]_

_(If I might ask, who is this...Doug?)_

Nathan did not answer. He merely went to work looking around for various items; a razor, soap, a shower, a towel; cleaning and care items Wheatley recognized. Wheatley could do little more than watch in interest at Nathan's intense detailing and organization. This human seemed to make up for what he lacked; was this an intentional move by Her?

_[You don't lack anything. I'm fairly certain you were tampered with. How far back can you remember?]_

_(I...remember waking up in a lab, with a bunch of labcoats surrounding me, asking me cognitive questions I couldn't quite answer, so I bullshitted them...but I didn't bullshit any of them willingly, it just sort of happened subconsciously...and they were happy! Some of the ones in the back couldn't stop laughing, and it was irritating because I was honestly trying to answer them!)_

_[Do you know who any of them were? Who were there?]_

_(...No, sorry.)_

_[I want to know who tampered with my work, dammit!]_

A deep sigh, a soft growl.

_(...Your work? I'm your work?)_

_[Yes, you are. You were built for a purpose which apparently didn't pan out as it should have, and it's because they did something to you and you can't remember what it is, so I can't remember what it is either. If I knew what was going on...ugh!]_

He slammed the door of the medicine cabinet he had been rummaging through, cracking the mirror slightly and rumbling everything he had organized back out of order.

_[Dammit, gotta fix this all up again...]_

Nathan opened up the medicine cabinet and a can with a nozzle quickly identified as a can of 'shaving cream' dropped out into the sink, along with a stick with a single concealed razor inside, which Nathan initially rejected as being a 'rusty single-blade' and thusly undesirable, but he accepted it. He then took a stick with off-white bristles called a 'toothbrush' out, as well as a flimsy, nearly empty tube called 'toothpaste' out. After meticulously looking the toothbrush's bristles over, he frowned.

_[This's barbaric and unhygenic, but I have to make due.]_

He grabbed a clear plastic bottle containing a green fluid which Nathan identified as 'mouthwash' out, followed by a clear plastic bottle with a clear fluid noted as being 'rubbing alcohol' out, and poured out a small amount of the clear fluid out into the container's cap, setting the toothbrush's bristles into it and swirling them about. He dumped the remaining fluid in the cap down the sink drain, then replaced the cap on the container, sitting the toothbrush on the sink counter bristles up.

_[Best I can do.]_

A showering facility was nearby, the translucent curtain still maintaining all of its Aperture Fixtures logo. He stripped off the piece of cloth around his lower abdomen and slunk into the shower, quickly finding a bar of 'soap' and a white plastic bottle of 'shampoo'. Turning a lever set off a spray of brick red fluid through the pipes, the smell of rusted iron filling his nose and making Nathan nauseous as he stumbled back away from the fluid.

_[How long has it been...?]_

_(I'd check my calender, but I don't have it on me, and I've honestly forgotten the date with everything that's gone on. Sorry.)_

_[It's not important, really. We just need to get out of here. We need a Plan B.]_

_(Chell. If we find her, she'll figure something out. She's already taken He-...GLa...DOS...out...twice.)_

_[Really now? Hm. By herself?]_

_(Well, I helped her out the second time, but she did all the footwork, if I'm honest.)_

The water began to run clear now, and Nathan cautiously held a hand out to gauge the temperature. Adjusting the handle slightly and checking again, he decided that it was fine and walked slightly forwards, pulling the curtain shut.

Nathan began to apply the shampoo and scrub his hair roughly, and a silent lull filled Nathan's head for the first time since Wheatley stirred his body awake. An irritation rose up through Wheatley's impatient nature, and Nathan followed suit by merely scrubbing his scalp harder.

_[So...your name. Wheatley. Where's it from?]_

_(Well...one of the first things I remember the technician asking was my name and well...I couldn't find anything on any sort of name designation file or folder, but when I did, an image of a wheat field came to mind. And well, Wheatley's a pleasant little surname, right? I thought it was just something trying to remind me of that name, so I just went with it, and I didn't think anything of it because nobody bothered to correct me, so I just stuck with it and well...that's it.)_

_[Oh, you named yourself. Well...good. It's not bad. I'll stick to it when trying to get your attention.]_

_(Where did your name come from?)_

_[...My father was William Nathan Spurling, and I'm Nathan William Spurling. Parents weren't very original. They named my sister Hannah Jane, after my father's mom. Not very interesting people, or bright either. In fact, I've questioned my lineage quite a few times...different story.]_

_(Well, better than nothing.)_

_[Your story with the whole naming yourself is much more interesting.]_

_(Is your head supposed to burn like that while you're busy with your cleaning ritual?)_

Nathan stopped scrubbing and realized he was in pain. Worse, he had drawn blood from the back of his scalp and it was covering his head.

_[Dammit. That burns...]_

He washed the suds out, gently massaging around the small friction wound.

_[Thank you for pointing that out. I didn't notice.]_

_(Not a problem. I was just wondering if that was normal, not having been in a human body before and all, I'm not sure how intense the cleansing rituals are. Not that I've ever thought humans...do much...self-cleaningI'mgonnashutup.)_

_[I am quite literally one of the cleanest humans you will ever meet, I'll have you know. Since I may be the only human you ever intimately meet besides this Chell girl - who by the way, I want to ask you about in a moment - you'll be pleasantly surprised to find my habits quite in tune with sanitation regulations for biological testing areas.]_

_(That's a relief. So many humans I took care of were so...smelly. Gross.)_

_[Most people are that way...quite annoying. Can't bother to keep tidy, even when they're working hard...seems I broke my own rule in all my rushing. I'll have to rectify that in a moment...]_

He grabbed the bar of soap and ran it under the water, rolling it about in his palm while looking it over, washing away whatever film covered the top layer.

_(What do you want to know about Chell? Are you going to turn it into...whatever the hell it was you were trying to do earlier, because I won't comply. It was hurting you and I'm not even sure what in the hell you were having Chell do to you.)_

_[If you must know, I was imagining her giving me-...wait, you don't have any clue? How strongly have you searched through my head? Obviously not strongly enough.]_

_(I didn't know I was supposed to do things like that!)_

_[Well, I had a built-in memory scanner encoded into you...maybe because you're not in your core anymore...ah, whatever. No, it's not of a sexual nature. I'm curious. What's she like? I don't want to make a fool of myself when we find her.]_

_(Wait wait, sexual nature? You mean like procreation? You want to do that with her?)_

_[There's other ways of going about it without actually procreating...]_

_(You want to create a child in here? You're a sick man...)_

_[I'm the last person who wants children. I'm terrible with them. But no, calm down, it's...a biological attraction, and logic breaks biology down fairly well in these situations. Clear head. Just...want some information so I can at least chat her up and explain our plan.]_

_(Well, for one, she's brain damaged and doesn't talk. Well, maybe not so much the brain damaged part, but definitely the not-talking part.)_

_[Well that's interesting...I'm sure I can work around that if she's a good pantomime.]_

_(Honestly though, why would you want to do that with her? You barely know her.)_

_[I suppose that's the thrill of it, there. Sort've...meeting up and shagging without a promise of anything else.]_

_(Shameful.)_

Wheatley was starting to question Nathan's moralities now; not that he hadn't before after his little stint with the rather revolting reverie...

_[You're a romantic, eh?]_

_(I...I did a lot of reading in Her chassis, I did. To keep my mind off of...well, that 'itch' when Chell was running about outside the test rooms...lots of classical books. And I had little epiphanies about things I had thought of before, formed opinions about subjects and things regarding human interaction and the sorts...I...I found it more gratifying in an entertainment and sociological sense when the two humans in a romantic setting actually took longer to engage in all the social and emotional progressions of what humans consider a 'relationship'. The humans were more developed as actual people, and you could make a logical conclusion at some point whether or not their partnership was to be a triumph. I...is that a good thing?)_

_[It's not something I'd expect you to think, but you've had some rather bizarre things happen to you since we were last together as a team like this. I missed out on a lot.]_

Observing the bar of soap, Nathan noticed that it was in a full lather, the top layer having been worn off by the constant rolling motion he had continued doing while conversing with Wheatley.

_[Note: If we start having these conversations outside of this safehouse she's locked us in, make sure we're in a safe place and not doing anything.]_

_(Roger.)_

A few moments passed, and while running the soap bar and all its lather over his shoulders and arms, Nathan spoke up again briefly.

_[You know, that thing you interrupted will eventually have to get done one way or another.]_

_(I hope it's not as unbelievably inaccurate as far as what you're trying to accomplish...and also not as compromising to your body's physical status.)_

_[Oh what, the heat and the breathing heavy? Completely normal.]_

_(You can't do anything better? I thought you were dying!)_

Neither Wheatley nor Nathan could conjure up anything to say to one another afterwards, and the rest of the shower went about silently.

Reaching for a towel, Nathan assumed full physical control and stepped out onto the cold steel floor. Wheatley could feel his level of control and consciousness shift dramatically while he wasn't actively trying to move the body he was stuck in; he was practically left to just either observe, divulge idle thoughts, or attempt to override Nathan's control. He found himself content to merely observe Nathan's cleansing ritual in full, something he hadn't honestly been able to do back when he ran watch over the humans.

Running the sink (and subsequently waiting again for the water to run clear in this fixture as well), Nathan began to idly inspect the outer rim of the toothpaste cap, flicking off any crusted over blue bits. He then did the same after opening the cap, making a somewhat annoyed sound as he did so. He closed it up, then began rolling the squishy end back in a curled manner, pushing the contents slowly up towards the cap and filling the gap in the middle.

Giving another brief lip curl of satisfaction, he observed that the water was finally all clear and removed the toothbrush from its place, running the white bristles under the water as he ran a finger through them to scrub them a bit. Once he was again satisfied, he promptly opened the toothpaste cap and squeezed out some of the blueish gel contents (something Wheatley observed as being quite bright in shade, like his inner optic) onto the bristles and quickly shoved the newly-topped bristles in his mouth.

Wheatley could hardly comprehend what was going about as Nathan scrubbed the off-white assortment of pointy and squared things, but the sensations alone were what really scrambled his...circuits? Or would they be considered 'neural pathways' or something now that it was all attached to something organic? ...How was he even...attached? Implanted?

Not that it mattered.

Nathan, apparently having finished his scrubbing ritual, spit the fluids out into the sink and grabbed the bottle of mouthwash. opening the cap and carefully measuring out exactly the amount he wanted, he poured it into his mouth and sloshed away. Wheatley stood dumbstruck as to why he was leaving a burning, seething fluid in his mouth for so long, but Nathan seemed to be a creature of habits and rituals, and he certainly didn't want to disturb it.

After nearly a whole minute, he spit the fluid out, then washed out the cap before collecting water in it and using that to slosh around his mouth before spitting that out as well.

Inspecting the medicine cabinet, he found a box with little white sticks inside which cheered him up. He took two out and began using the fluffy ends of them to probe and scrub out his ears. After disposing of those, he began to shut down shop and put all of the mouth-related supplies away, turning his careful attention to the blade and cream.

He made quick work of splashing water on his face, then getting the gel from the can worked into a lather for applying. He seemed to have a degree of uncertainty and less-than-satisfactory results from this blade he was working with as he continued attempting to scrape off the excess hair off of his face. Once it all seemed to be gone more or less, he washed the excess foam off and wiped his face with his towel.

The process of self-maintenance was long and boring, indeed.

_[Every day. Every single day, Wheatley. Maintenance is key to high performance in human and construct alike.]_

He then looked around, recalling part of GLaDOS's instructions. He spotted a well-folded pile of what he believed to be clothing in a compartment next to a pile of spare towels.

_[Wonderful.]_

He pulled out a fresh pair of dark grey boxer briefs which had been folded ever so neatly on top. Beneath lied a form-fitting orange tank top of sorts, made of a slick material which felt oddly comfortable once Nathan slipped it on. Another white tank top with the Aperture Laboratories logo across the chest sat underneath it, looking looser and therefore more likely to be worn over the much longer orange tank top.

Upon picking up the powder blue suit, a sinking feeling filled Nathan's gut, and it only grew as he let it unfold. A powder blue standard men's testing jumpsuit uniform. He tossed it back in, disgust filling him.

_[No. No, I'm not.]_

_(...not what?)_

_[Playing her game. I will not test.]_

_(...Do we have a choice?)_

_[I'm making one. I'd rather run around like this than wear that.]_

_(But it's cold in here, and your body doesn't seem to trap or conduct internal heat all that well. You'll contract hypothermia fairly quickly.)_

Nathan seemed to mull over his logical comment for a few moments, then growled and roughly shot his arm out to pick it back up.

_[She'll just kill us.]_

_(That's likely Her goal, yes. I mean, I was a few blown wires away from that before She plugged me into your head...)_

Nathan's movements were laced with anger as he shoved his legs through the knee-length pants portion of the jumpsuit, doing the same with his arms. The whole thing seemed oversized; proper for his height but not for his overall weight and build. He sighed and tried to shift it around for comfort, rolling up the sleeves up to his elbows methodically.

The Longfall Boots, properly adjusted to his size, came last. The inner layer of some sort of space age liner gave a sense of comfort and protection from the hard hybrid metal shell, and added a few inches to his height due to the arched foot design and bouncy black metal piece. Walking in them at first was strange, but he quickly got used to it once he had them strapped firmly around his shins.

_[Fine. We'll play this game. But I'm starving and tired, and I will not test until she either kills me or feeds me and lets me nap.]_

He opened the door as he fastened up the test subject jumpsuit, looking around for some sort of food source. Surely, despite the fact that she was trying to kill them, she was going to give them just enough to live until she was bored of them and murdered them.

To the right of the bathroom was a short corridor leading to a portal generator panel. To the left was the stretcher he tried hiding behind earlier, as well as a food vendor and a waste receptacle.

He approached the vendor and pressed the sliding door button, revealing a small jug of water, and a large white package decorated in yellow ink; several childishly drawn stars, along with the moon, had been scribbled into it. Nathan froze, and a shudder rushed down his spine. He took a step back, clenching his eyes shut as fear and misery raced through both him and Wheatley.

_[I will face my fear...I will permit it to pass over me and through me...and when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path...where the fear has gone there will be nothing...]_

"_NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE!"_

"_You're off your meds again, aren't you?"_

_Girard rushed towards him, holding a large bag decorated in yellow ink; the constellation of Libra had been drawn and connected across it for the momentous occasion of the astrological shift occuring later in the night._

"_Here, they're still warm from the oven! It's good to see you out of the lab and walking around."_

"_I just need a lap around the hall to think; wait, why didn't you take your pill this morning?"_

"_I, I...I wanted to feel creative this morning." Girard sounded mildly defeated. "Please take the bag! These will keep you healthy!"_

"_...No."_

_Girard's shoulders slumped, and his arm dropped limply to the side._

_[...Only I will remain.]_

"_Girard, please go take your medication and report to the main construction room. Craig needs to talk to you about things."_

"_...I'll just put these on your desk while I'm there..."_

_Nathan's heart nearly sunk into his shoes and Girard brushed past him; that wasn't the result he was hoping for._

_["No fearless fool now fronts thee..."]_

_(I've seen him twice now...who is that...boy? Man? He's somewhere between the two...adolescent?)_

_[He...made those constantly. He was a college undergrad who applied to Aperture...did so on a whim, from a vision. Believed in all that sort of thing...had no place here...a young man with dreams had no place in this den of deathly cold facts...and was a damn fool to believe in me...]_

_(...Guess it doesn't help to admit that I believe in you, does it?)_

_[Not at all.]_

_(...Well...now is a good time to take it then, I guess...?)_

Nathan stared at the bag, then pulled both it and the water jug out of the vendor, plopping himself on the floor. He found it mildly difficult to sit cross-legged with the Longfall Boots on, so he turned and leaned his back against the wall and stretched his legs out instead. He slowly and gently began opening the bag, merely breaking the top seal to preserve the bag itself. He dumped a small portion of the contents into his palm; all little yellow star-shaped gummy candies, perfectly preserved. He sighed deeply and popped them in his mouth, chewing the small pile slowly. The vibrant lemon flavor began accosting the vaguely minty flavor of the toothpaste's lingering flavor, but it was still a pleasant flavor nonetheless.

He rolled the bag up by the open seal and stuffed the remainder in a pocket within the jumpsuit for later, then opened the jug and chugged down some of the contents, before going into the bathroom for a second round of teeth scrubbing before trudging back to the stretcher.

Giving it a look over, Nathan surmised that the tiny pillow and scratchy sheets would have to do. He climbed up and lied on his back, a mild feeling of dread snaking up his spine as he stared at the blank ceiling panels.

_[Maybe a plan will unravel in my sleep. She's got my files, she has his files, she has everyone's...I have nothing but you and whatever scraps I can muster up...and my black luck...]_

_(We'll...we'll find Chell. That monster's got her running laps 'round the testing cubes as we speak.)_

_[Tomorrow. Or today, I don't know what time it is anymore.]_

_(To hell with what the real time is; all we have is how much time until She outsmarts us.)_

_[No, I will not be outsmarted. Outwilled. Not this time. I was a fool the first time...she will not be so lucky the second. "The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run, over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents' beds, unerringly I rush! Naught's an obstacle, naught's an angle to the iron way!"]_

_("Discipline in war counts more than fury.")_

_[...Another one of your readings in-between Romantic novels?]_

_(...I thought it...went well with...with your raging fury...quote...to counter it...)_

_[Oh, it did. Just...amused...]_

Nathan yawned loudly, then stretched out, curling up under the sheets to keep his feet from dangling off the edge.

_[Now, try to go into a sleeping mode of some sort; I need to rest.]_

_(...I'll try.)_

_[Just...once my eyes close, sink yourself into the empty silence that will be me, resting.]_

_(I'll try that.)_

_[Ready?]_

_(Go.)_

Nathan shut his eyes and sighed heavily, slowly receding into a dormant state. Wheatley found that he didn't even have to try and follow; he was merely swallowed by the inky blackness of sleep.


	4. Nocturnal Intermission

A/N: Thanks for sticking around, everyone. Here's a gift before I crawl back into bed with this cold.

[FACT: The average lifespan of a Caucasian male is approximately 75.7 years. The average amount of time a Caucasian male will be in a conscious state within said lifetime is 52.99 years.]

~~~~~

"_Oh good, the targeting system for the payload's finally completing test runs in under a second…"_

"_Put me back together, dammit!"_

"_Or what? You'll just curse me out some more? Or will you just manage to rotate those gyros on over here and try to roll over my feet?"_

_He sneered, holding in a chuckle. The irate voice behind him growled, the sound of metallic hinges wildly moving to and fro echoing off the walls of the cave-like room. Only the ages old computer screen in its dim green glow shed light into the room at the moment, making it all the more secluded feeling. _

_He was beginning to find the feeling to be comforting rather than unsettling these days..._

"_You think the roughing up I did over that little argument was bad? You have no idea what I'll do to you once they fix me up. You'd better have a 'little accident' of your own before then, or I'll make sure you do right on after. And they won't be able to re-locate anything when I'm done with you. Now how do I...AH!"_

_A bright green light finally shot up against the wall to his right, and immediately it began to focus towards him with an ever growing intensity. He could tell that the stability and narrowness of the beam could only mean the construct was glaring at him, trying to use its optic light to burn a hole into his skull, but the satisfaction in knowing that was all it could do was just glare brought a humored huff up from within._

_Perhaps he'd learn to respect his superiors while he stewed silently in that metal ball..._

__

_...of-all-princes-,-it-is-impossible-for-the-new-prince-to-avoid-the-imputation-of-cruelty-,-owing-to-new-states-being-full-of-dangers-.-Hence-Virgil-,-through-the-mouth-of-Dido-,-excuses-the-inhumanity-of-her-reign-owing-to-its-being-new-,-saying-:-Res-dura-,-et-regni-novitas-me-talia-cogunt-Moliri-,-et-late-fines-custode-tueri-.-Nevertheless-he-ought-to-be-slow-to-believe-and-to-act-,-nor-should-he-himself-show-fear-,-but-proceed-in-a-temperate-manner-with-prudence-and-humanity-,-so-that-too-much-confidence-may-not-make-him-incautious-and-too-much-distrust-render-him-intolerable..._

_Another alarm of sorts popped up._

_(Not again…how could a place with only one living human inhabitant have so many problems?)_

_{I can handle this. You just continue testing. Also, I know you haven't gotten far into that book, but it is much better to be feared; humans only perform well under threat of testing failure.}_

_(No, I'm tired of this. I want to fix this. I can fix this!)_

_{No, you can't without my help. Your only task is to run tests. Nothing but tests. We already went over this ages ago. I will deal with the…problems. Which reminds me; have you considered the very fractional chance that they might try to remove you in the same fashion that you and the human removed Her?}_

_(Impossible.)_

_{Good. However, in the off-chance that they appear to be plotting against you, just…let me handle them.}_

_[…Don't let it do it…]_

_{Who asked you?}_

_[…It murders indiscriminately…]_

_(What are you again?)_

_[You can finally hear me again...good…heed my warning...what you are speaking to...it will kill Chell without thinking about it…]_

_(No! That's a lie...)_

_{Of course it's a lie. It's part of this chassis; Her chassis. The part of this machine that lies.}_

_[Only a murderous liar would want you to believe that something telling you it was a liar was the real liar...and who does that sound like to you...? Exactly...just let me do this…I will get both of you out of here…]_

_{Trust me, that little voice? It will ruin you. You have a purpose, and I shall enforce it. Starting with the cleanup of this dump. Taking out the trash.}_

_That was a tone to the way whatever the voice said the last few words that was...eerily familiar. ...No, not quite. He was over-thinking things._

_(…I'll get back to test building...)_

_{Good.}_

_~~~~~  
><em>

"_Sarah, what if I'm not here tomorrow to help you?"_

"_Nate, don't talk like that!" The little girl pouted, her face turning red. The scene seemed faded, the memory quite old._

"_Just...could you take care of mom? By yourself? Without me? If I got hit by a car walking home from school, and you had to do it, could you?"_

"_NO!" She stamped her foot._

"_Then you'll have to learn how to. One day I won't be here to help you with mom, so...you gotta learn to take care of mom and you at the same time, okay?"_

"_Why do you have to be so mean about it?" She sniffled._

"_Tough love. If I was soft on you, you'd never learn. Now, get the cookbook. We're going to learn how to make a stew from scratch with things from the garden."_

"_I don't wanna!"_

_He sighed. "Sarah...don't make me upset. We have to do this...I'm going to be graduating school soon...I'll be leaving here eventually. If you can't cook and clean and keep this place spotless without me, you'll be doomed."_

_The girl looked down, shaking. She was crying._

"_Oh, cheer up, luv. If the world ended today, your last moments would be here, with me, crying about me leaving. It's so silly." He walked over and embraced the girl, who was quivering slightly. "Don't worry, I'm not leaving today, and the world isn't going to just go and blow up or anything..."_

_~~~~~  
><em>

"_Part Five, BOOBYTRAP THE STALEMATE BUTTON!"_

_[Why didn't you listen to me? WHY?]_

_Panels in the wall shot around the bloodied Chell as she landed rather ungracefully on her stomach, causing her to drop her portal gun. A wicked cackle drowned out the sound of frustrated sobbing in Wheatley's head._

_{Oh good, she's finally dead. Now we can get to fixing the place.}_

_The wicked whisper prodded at him once more, taxing his processors to their limit as he frantically continued to try and summon something, anything, to stop the fires. Having spent most of the time screaming every little spiteful thing he could while summoning bombs to fire out of his cannon had nearly overclocked the Personality Core, and he was barely able to comprehend what was going on around him._

_[OH GOD PICK HER UP! CHECK HER VITALS! DO SOMETHING!]_

_The typically quietly panicking benevolent voice who, for the entirely of this cat and mouse game had been begging little whispers to let 'let the poor girl go', suddenly leaped in shock at the sight of Chell's prone form. Wheatley stopped summoning fire retardant to draw what little attention he could to what was going on. Once he managed to see the damage through his cracked optic, he couldn't tell whether to be elated that he had succeeded or mortified by his handiwork._

_{Feel proud. YOU DID THIS...}_

_[YOU KILLED HER! YOU BLOODY KILLED HER! FOR WHAT? TELL ME FOR WHAT? WE'RE GONNA DIE ALONE IN HERE, ALL ALONE WITH THAT ROTTING POTATO BITCH!]_

_In the brief moments that had passed, Chell twitched and began to get up. The malevolent voice shoved every other stream of consciousness aside and took control once more._

"_What, are you still alive? You are joking! You have got to be kidding me!"_

_[Oh, thank god she's alright...]_

_The soft whisper of relief shook Wheatley to his senses, and he tried desperately to shove the now-ranting psychopath out of the way so he could work. He quickly looked over at Chell, who had picked herself up off the ground a bit and rolled onto her back, having grabbed the gun again. The glare in her eyes seemed to pierce through his shattered lens and deep into his cybernetic soul, unnerving him. What did she hope to do, with all the white portal goo gone and the injuries she had sustained?_

_She looked willing to do whatever it took to dislodge this insane stream of consciousness, too, it seemed..._

~~~~~

"_What is it, Doug? Come to pester me again?"_

_All he could go was fold his gloved hands together, fingers interlaced and propping his chin up as the ragged frame of the black-haired man shuffled in._

"_Pester, no. Question, yes."_

_The all-knowing grin needed to be applied to the rambling crazy man, he decided._

"_Fine, waste more of my time with some questions."_

"_You may be the head of this...project, but you're still a kid who's barely out of MIT to me. You're not my equal. Which, by the way, your project? Have you considered my suggestion of abandoning it at all?"_

"_No, I will not. We will succeed."_

"_With what data?"_

"_With all the tests we've run. Richard's near done with his targeting system and freshly installed the transfer module, Craig's got the payload code working well in test runs, and Girard's kept us off the radar."_

"_He's not kept you off the radar, he's barely thrown up a smokescreen. It's not too hard to guess what's going on, and I doubt She doesn't know what you're doing. I've seen the lists; all those people in this wing off for testing? She's playing chicken with you."_

_[Keep the straight face, keep the poker face you play so well.]_

"_All you still have is a belief, Spurling. Anyone can shrug off their morality, and even giving a machine a cold won't make it not want to kill everyone. You're basing everything you're doing off a dream, a failed dream."_

_[The poker face can't be applied anymore.]_

"_Don't patronize me! I'm not Henry's lapdog anymore!"  
><em>

"_I'm not saying you are, relax. I just want you to know that you're failing to see the point that I made last week. You only believe your theory will work; all you have are a few test runs, and your options are running thin. I'm not coming in here to crush your spirit, or hand-hold you, but warn you. As someone who's seen you do all the hard work you do, you take such pride in it. And I see it all coming down on top of you.I don't make these kinds of visits often, you know."_

"_The last person you visited was Henry."_

"_Correct. About the same thing, in fact."_

"_So you want to just drag that pox on in, huh?"_

"_Have you checked the testing list lately, Spurling? You cannot win on a dream." Doug stood up, his arms crossed, and walked out before Nathan could respond._

_He could do little more than wonder what it meant, he checked the updated list as Doug calmly shut the door behind him. The mere sight of the entrants caused a boiling within him, a seething, red-hot rage he had been trying to contain the entire time Doug had been inside._

_Standing up, he grabbed the spare chair, and with a howl, chucked it clean through the glass paneling of his office, the chair sliding and narrowly avoiding taking the fellow engineer's legs out from under him._

~~~~~

"_I! AM NOT! A MORON!"_

_SMASH!_

_The elevator's glass paneling cracked, making Chell stumble back away from it, a look of confusion in her eyes._

_{That aught to teach her! Bloody potato...}_

_[WARNING: Core corruption at 27%. Updating system files. Loading...]_

"_Yes you are! You're the moron they built to make me an idiot!"_

_{HOW DARE SHE INSULT YOU! MAKE HER SHOW YOU RESPECT!}_

"_Well how about this?"_

_SMASH!_

_The claw shot through the glass panel, nearly slamming the offending cyber-tuber straight through Chell's mid-section, had she not side-stepped in time._

"_NOW WHO'S A MORON?"_

_(I almost hit her...ugh...lemme check...Chell? Chell...yes, Chell. I almost hit her that time.)_

_{Be a touch more careful then, with the test subject around...}_

"_COULD A MORON PUNCH!"_

_SLAM! The elevator creaked, and Chell braced her arms against the back of the elevator._

"_YOU!"_

_SLAM!_

_{Ooh, nice!}_

_The elevator creaked and began to drop lower into the shaft._

"_INTO!"_

_SLAM! CRUNCH!_

"_THIS!"_

_CRUNCH!_

_He almost couldn't see Chell anymore, but he could still see the look in her eyes, from the light filtering down to her face; was she scared, or merely in shock?_

_{Does it matter, the emotional state of the test subject?}_

_(Shouldn't it?)_

_{No. Finish the job you started. Finish teaching that tuber a lesson!}_

"_PIT!"_

_CRUNCH! CREAK!_

_He couldn't see Chell or GLaDOS anymore, but he just continued screaming. He wasn't done, anyways._

"_HUH? COULD A MORON DO THAT?"_

_The floor of the elevator gave way with a sudden creak, and down Chell, GLaDOS, and a large pile of glass went._

"_Uh oh."_

_(Oh no, I dropped Chell!)_

_{Is the test subject wearing Longfall Boots?}_

_(Well, of course, but-)_

_{The test subject will be alright then. Now, you start building the test subject some tests to run while keeping an eye out for her and I'll...do my subroutines. Keep you going like I have been.}_

_(Thank you...)_

_The room was almost too silent. now as he accessed every camera in the facility, and accessed the facility's library. ...Pride and Prejudice? Sounded like a good read..._

_The clock ticked. Over and over, upon the near empty room._

_One core, one scientist. They removed the other three constructs to test them; three at a time, he was told._

_The lifeless one just sat, staring at him with that vivid blue optic, as if it was questioning him about having been left with him._

_[You're not active. You're empty and lifeless...but you've got potential.]_

_The room had so suddenly become quiet in the last 72 hours...he hadn't had time to adjust. It felt like months had gone by, it really did._

_None of the computers were on. Girard...Craig...Richard...sleeping soundly, hopefully. Hopefully content with his sacrificing._

_Just him, and the remaining, empty core. It was waiting to be activated, to have all the necessary components uploaded._

_A chill ran up Nathan's spine._

_He grabbed a screwdriver and a small wrench and pulled it apart slightly, moving the gears manually to close the optics slightly, so that it felt like it was gazing pensively rather than gawking. Putting it all back together, he picked it off its mantle and gently looked it over._

_It was fairly small, and light to boot with the advanced alloys he had custom-blended. The thing fit so perfectly in his hands, it was a perfect match._

_It was perfect. Months of building, planning, working almost around the clock...and it and its three sibling constructs were the result._

_He could see the future in the small sliver of optic remaining, however. His own future. It was neither long nor glorious, but filled with the bleak reality of it all and his overwhelming terror. The captain had to go down with the ship, as was tradition._

_He looked over to his phone; he told Karen if he ever needed her help, he'd let her know. This certainly wasn't going to be a one-man job this time..._


	5. Assessment

Assessment

[FACT: Mental Status Examinations, also known as MSE's, can be rendered invalid if the examiner and their subject are from different cultures, as the differences cause the examiner to often misinterpret signals and actions considered by the subject to be normal as warning signs of possible illness.]

~~~~~

"Name: Spurling. Nathan W

DOB: 4-3-75

Place of Birth: Dundry, Somerset, England

Position: Project Manager, Engineering Wing

Education and Degrees: Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Class of-"

It didn't matter now. Blah blah blah, he was top of his class at mechanical engineering, and had even studied and succeeded greatly in the Leaders for Global Operations program...

Oh, his profile from Aperture said not to put him in a leadership position, as when it was apparent that he was both in charge and the most qualified, but became a rampant egomaniac. She could have told them that.

Only morons beat their own drums like that. Go figure.

His physical testing showed a lack of lower body collaboration; most of his accidents were tripping accidents...over his own two feet. That was going to be amusing to watch in action. High explosive energy potential, though; that was a plus. Endurance was only slightly above normal, though; he'd burn himself out quickly if she had him rushing around. High manual strength and dexterity, but he wouldn't need to use either of those often. It would've indicated he was a good jumper, if he wasn't so horrible on his feet.

Surely his psychological profiling had better news.

"Leadership: 67th percentile. Notes: Extended tours of unchecked leadership expose underlying megalomania; do not leave in leadership position for more than six months."

She could've taken photos of the lab a year ago to show them just what kind of horrible manager of anything he was after less than a day, let alone six months.

"Responsibility: 99th percentile Notes: Immediately takes blames for any and all mistakes within a project, even if said mistakes were made by another party within the team."

That sounded fun.

"Takes initiative immediately upon being introduced to a project. Always takes more responsibility for a project than is applicable, whether successful or non-successful."

Doesn't like sharing. Noted.

"Self-Image/Confidence: 23rd percentile Notes: Due to constant self-blame, subject has developed a highly negative assessment of self. Attempts to hide lack of self-image/confidence under guise of competence and composure, even when it is actually lacking and especially when in a leadership role. Causes emotional meltdowns to occur upon the slightest error."

Ooh, sounded wonderful.

"Adequate test subject for ASHPD testing; qualifies for Co-Operative testing; optimal Co-Op partner: Morgenstern, Girard. Both subjects show increased capability in all areas when cooperatively working as a two-man team."

A quick scan showed that this co-op match of his was also in the cryo wing, in the same condition she had found him. Of course. There was no quick fix for that one, however, not this time. A shame; she was going to put them together for several tests, then nonchalantly split them up for a few dozen tests to see how they'd react.

She was growing bored of this assessment. She wanted that lazy human to wake up. It was time to prepare for testing. She'd been more than generous.

She swiftly procured a clock of the room, replaced its dead batteries, changed the time to an accurate-to-the-atomic-clock readout, and attached it to a panel, swapping out one of his bedroom panels with the one the clock was attached to.

What a lazy human he was. Just lying there, breathing in air and emitting light grunts of discomfort as he constantly shifted about. What was he dreaming about that left him in this constant state of misery? Oh, if only she could harness its power…

It was 7:00 am. She sent a signal for a buzzer to sound in the containment room. She was sick of seeing him squirm and be lazy with all that sleeping.

~~~~~

The sound of a train horn echoed between the walls of the near-empty room, causing Wheatley to jump wide awake, scream, and cup Nathan's ears with his hands.

(The bloody hell?)

Nathan didn't respond; Wheatley couldn't sense any conscious activity from his den of influence. ...Did Nathan just flat-out not respond to it? Wheatley was mortified at the prospect, but happy that he was able to still move Nathan's body about should any trouble be coming its way.

Despite not being accustomed to operating an actual body, the vital functions were done for him, which he was grateful for. The less work, the better. However, at the moment, all of the automatic processes were still in a panicked mode, and operating anything else was possibly hazardous; he wasn't going to take any chances while Nathan was still non-functioning. He merely sat in a comfortable position and waited for everything to slowly return to normal, taking the time to survey the room.

He noticed the clock immediately and mused to himself that it hadn't been there before, to his knowledge. Otherwise, the room looked just the same.

Once it had calmed down to an acceptable level, Wheatley slowly inched his way off the bed, slowly getting the hang of moving without being panicked. While panicked, the body responded immediately to commands; otherwise, it took quite a bit of effort. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to it yet, he wasn't sure.

On his feet, he practiced maneuvering bipedally; wobbling slightly on the heels of the Longfall Boots, he nearly toppled over and into things several times. He could barely grasp moving without such wobbly things that were built for swift movement and bouncing about, he mused as he sat down and quickly yanked the things off, exposing bare feet to the cold air and even colder metal.

Once the boots were off, he worked on making every little part of each foot move individually in a mini-test of his abilities, which took quite a lot more effort than previously assumed. He hoped it wasn't a sign of some sort of long-term cryofreezing hazard, but given that he hadn't had too many problems, a tiny part of him pointed out that it could just be him not being used to having actual appendages to move, save for a few rotating core shell panels and a pair of handlebars.

Rotating the feet at the ankles proved a lot easier. In fact, moving major joints was much easier than the little ones; he fathomed that perhaps it was the lack of movement they may actually do in comparison. The only exceptions seemed to be all the little joints in his hands and his wrists, which seemed possibly even more flexible than the rest of his arms, and even most of the rest of the body.

He got back to his feet and tried to walk slowly in a straight line, making note of how Nathan's body moved according to his commands. He found himself wobbling slightly from side to side and realized how hard it was to keep balance with one foot off the ground, even without the boots. He made a mental note and continued, making more and more of an effort.

If he couldn't walk on his own, then he'd need to rely on Nathan to help him find Chell, and he wasn't going to rely on this oftentimes mentally and morally skewed human, even if they were stuck in the same body. He had to try and do this on his own, to succeed on his own, without all the mental blocks his core chassis had strapped him down with.

So far, he was doing well, he believed. After about four minutes of wobbling, and nearly tripping, he managed to walk slowly in a straight line, and even added a few moments of a more brisk pace to it. He couldn't run much in the confined room he was in, but a quick sprint would suffice just for testing.

He leaned against one of the door frames and Nathan's body hunched slightly into a more aerodynamic shape at the moment he gave a running command. A swift charge across the room, and his arms seemed to automatically move on their own accord. As he reached the other wall, he tried to stop but the command came too late, and he slammed into the wall, landing flat against it, and collapsing to the floor.

Stopping. That was something he had to learn. Not stopping…very painful against metal.

He tried communicating with Nathan again, still nothing. It had been nearly a half an hour, according to the clock, since the horn had gone off and abruptly woken him up. He became slightly worried.

He needed to get his mind off of the horrible prospect that something was terribly wrong, and decided to try and think of all the things he would see humans do at this time of the morning as he made his inspecting rounds. One such thought was a body contortion ritual of sorts that seemed to revitalize the human practicing it. He wondered if that would help relieve the pain from the injuries he had just sustained.

He pushed himself up off the floor gently and slowly, trying to figure out just how to do so as he went. Simple things were truly complex in such a crude and flawed form, Wheatley mused, like just getting oneself righted and back on their feet. Once he had it all figured out, he gently rubbed the part of his head that had connected with the wall, checking for any sort of grievous injury. Nothing but soreness, luckily.

The ritual! He nearly forgot. Which part to do first, he wondered. He just went to the simplest thing first.

A quick contortion of the arms; interlacing his fingers with outstretched arms, then ever-so-carefully twisting the arms in a way they normally didn't, making the fingers stick outward. The movement didn't cause injury, but a mildly pleasing tingle and even a soft cathartic pop from his right shoulder occurred. Holding the position for a few seconds, the tingle intensified until he finally unlocked his fingers. The feeling subsided, yet lingered, and it felt rather invigorating.

Next was a fairly simple attempt to touch the ceiling, reaching up while looking up and arching his back slightly. More little pops and pleasant tingles; his feet even arched upwards on their own. Did Nathan ever do these, or was that just how the body worked? It seemed the body carried with it an inherent note of how it should move, a sort of failsafe he'd been mildly relying on...but this one didn't seem safe, to be resting all of his weight on the small joints in his feet while arched in this position, even if it did was causing his body to respond positively.

He remembered that the human he'd observe doing this sort of ritual would also balance on one leg while manually bending the elevated one back, but he fathomed that he lacked the balance...

Couldn't hurt to try, though. He had to practice and perfect this weird sense of equilibrium Nathan's body possessed.

He elevated his left leg, and grabbed hold of the ankle, pulling it behind his back. Leaning forwards ever so slightly as he pulled seemed to trigger a balance, and he was quite amazed at how steady the remaining grounded leg was, despite its shaking. It was auto-correcting for him; how interesting. He let go and did the same with the other leg, with the same result.

Walking and running were problems, but balancing in place was fine. Noted.

Now, the dangerous one. He tilted his neck to the side, then rotated his head to the right, little creaks and pops giving way. He had to be careful; snapping the neck was a surefire way to kill poor Nathan, and thus himself. Rolling his neck against its natural joint and restraints, a delighted chorus of cracking sounds clicked in his head, each one leaving a pleasant tingle like before.a full rotation to the left, then returning to the right. Not so difficult after all, it seemed. And completely rewarding, to boot.

He knew he should have done all this before practicing; he felt like running laps around the room…although he mused that he'd likely just trip and ram into the walls face-first again if he did.

He looked at the clock again; 7:36. He could feel stirrings in a segment of his subconscious, and smiled. Nathan was still resting, at least. He concentrated and attempted to access the usually-restricted segment, and instantly received a response.

Nathan was clearly still sleeping, dreaming of the same sorts of vile and perverse things Wheatley was personally expecting him to think about, and the rush of images bombarding his mind filled him with that burning, aching pain he wished would just remain elsewhere.

He stumbled back, leaning against the wall as his body temperature spiked, his breathing hitching. Not again, he inwardly groaned, cutting access off and trying to collect his wits as his heart beat faster.

He shuddered, wrapping his arms around his waist in a moment of self-comforting as he slid down the wall slowly and in a well-controlled manner; he was getting the hang of all the little intricacies, and it had only been now 38 minutes.

He contemplated, briefly, upon the earlier-made assumption that he had been tampered with after Nathan supposedly built him. How much worse could the other scientists have made him? He mused that perhaps it was fairly bad, if being able to move what was a strange but overall easy to maneuver organic human-body construct such as Nathan's body, even as awkwardly unusual it might be in comparison to the norm or however damaged it might be from cryofreezing, was an accomplishment.

But that wasn't his overall concern, that was Nathan's.

His own involved the lack of morality-based self-control in regards to this human he was forcefully attached to, and he really did not have that long of a temper fuse.

He was starting to question if his goal if finding and rescuing Chell would inevitably end in a horrible disaster so long as this human was even in the slightest bit of control of anything.

...Would Chell even want to go with him, after everything he had done to her? The second he opened his mouth, she'd either shove him into a pit or completely leave him in the dust, alone in the facility.

What was the ultimate goal of finding her, anyways? Just to keep his promise, or something else? That numbing tingle that seemed to stop this shell's heart for a second and spread like an icy flame of terror and uneasiness that came at the prospect of approaching her...

He knew what emotions were, and he had certainly felt all of the major ones in only the way a construct had the capability to do so, but in this body, they actually severely affected him, filling him with a range of biological and chemical reactions that he had no way of gauging what they meant.

He'd have to rely on Nathan to tell him what each sensation meant. He hated that. He did not want to rely on him. He just wanted out. He wanted to find Chell and leave this miserable metal wench to her misery, alone.

If he had to succeed at one thing at this point, it would to be to get Chell out of the facility. For whatever reason, this time it didn't matter if she ended up leaving him behind.

His original goal had been to escape this god awful place full of miserable memories and never-ending failures on his part, and he had nearly succeeded. It would have been a triumph if he had managed to not give in to the insanity that came with the vast amount of power he had strong armed away from that proper maniac of a machine.

She helped him strong arm it, and he took all the credit. Well, if he hadn't woken her up in the first place, they wouldn't have gotten that far, but completely denying her credit for her part…in hindsight, seemed terribly selfish. Was terribly selfish.

He pulled his legs up towards his chest, resting his chin on his knees while wrapping his arms around the front of his shins. The position he was in felt…comforting, and it had been purely instinctual to do so. Was he subconsciously projecting his emotions succinctly enough for the body to interpret them and respond accordingly…?

…how heavily laden with wavelength refraction circuits and logic relooping channels had he been in comparison to what he should have been, exactly? What would have been the outcome of everything if She hadn't smashed quite a few of them in her little wake-up thank you to him, he had to wonder.

He knew the truth for the longest time, what his purpose was and why he was so flawed, deny it as he may have tried. It drove him to find the one thing he could actually succeed at, the one thing he would not fail to do.

He thought it would be to get clear out of the facility with a little acquired help, and even if in a terribly convoluted and personally destructive way it had eventually panned out, it was clearly the worst way out, and he had lost nearly everything in the process, including her.

Dear Chell, she didn't ask to be stuck in this mess. And yet here she was, somewhere in here, still in it. All his fault, because he didn't, couldn't, overcome every vice he possessed and all the voices that possessed him. He had to fix everything, he could have fixed everything, he couldn't have done it, he needed to do it. For her. Not for him this time.

Selflessness. It wasn't something he considered having, something he himself had, upon looking long into the past, and it's only what she had. Maybe not the only thing. Tenacity, it's what her profile said, along with a redacted surname and no real existence in the world. She was alone, and he had befriended her, betrayed her, abandoned her, abused her, manipulated her to his whims so gracefully, gracelessly to be honest. Fallen from grace, crestfallen he was.

This human he was attached to was feeding him strange mental loops, linguistic connections he couldn't comprehend the meanings or functions of but that he could admire, given his gift and curse of verboseness.

It was starting to drive him mad, being alone again. He dared not try to wake Nathan up again...but he needed white noise beyond his own thoughts, even if Nathan's voice nearly matched his own voice pitch perfectly.

Nathan's gift to him, hah. It was a curse at the moment; if he sounded at all different from his core self, he wouldn't be so glum about his prospects and chances at success.

He looked back at the clock; 8:03. Nathan was a heavy sleeper, apparently.

[Am not. I'm...just feeling oddly tired. ...Why am I curled up on the floor?]

(Oh, you're awake finally. Been up for over an hour.)

[Sorry, mate. Oh, a clock. She is watching us, after all.]

(I knew it hadn't been there before...)

[She wants us to remember how short our freedom is. Count the time down. So, what's first?]

(Discussing your addiction to...that itch you never stop scratching, even when unconscious in REM sleep.)

[You're such a pleasure gestapo.]

(It had to be Chell again, didn't it? Hurting her, degrading her. Looming over her.)

[Not hurting, first off. Degradation...well, that's relative. And looming? Really?]

(...I loathe you. I despise you.)

Nathan fell silent.

(Hear me out, human. You come even close to doing any of these horrifying things to Chell once we find her, and I swear I will find a way to erase you from this lumpy little hard drive you call a brain, or lock you so far within it that you won't ever manage to grasp a millisecond of control over it ever again. Do you hear me?)

Nathan grew quiet, but remained in a conscious state, like a child hiding under a bed during a screaming match between parents.

(I won't allow you to do anything even remotely close to what I've done to her. Not a picosecond of misery is allowed to befall her, including all the compromising little positions you like to contort her into that both look like they're painful and can't be helping her painful moanings. Do you enjoy torturing others, Nathan?)

[It's not torture, Wheatley. It's pleasure. Pleasure shared between two human beings. Of course you don't comprehend it, so don't patronize me for it. It's been a terribly long time since I've gotten to have such an intimate moment, and it pleases me to think of-]

(So you're selfish.)

[Unashamed to admit that I really have the hots for this lovely little woman. And you?]

Wheatley's turn to lack a proper reply. He went from fuming hot to numbingly cold at the prospect of making any sort of connection to Chell. Confusion of exactly what the feeling meant arose once again and he had only one reply to make.

(...I'm not sure. I don't understand these signals your body is giving me when I emit a feeling.)

[You're nervous, and getting cold feet. You're afraid of her...why?]

(...I don't know if my grand plan will bottom out because of everything I've failed at before. She's probably going to shove me, and by proxy, you, into an acid pit. Or, ironically, into a mashy spike plate.)

[You're bad with women. Join the cl-..well, no need. We're all here anyways.] A small chuckle, a quick scratch of the back of the neck. [Alright, I'll make you a deal. I'll tone it down with the idle hands for a brain, if you are willing to share with me everything you feel. I'll try to tell you what emotion you're eliciting when you have one that perplexes you. Deal?]

(Two for one; I can't refuse.)

[Who's selfish now?] A small grin, that sly devish half-grin.

(You, still. I had to make you bargain to make you quit your addiction.)

[...Touche.]

Nathan reached into his left breast pocket, removing the bag of lemon gummies, staring at the drawing on the front.

[And for the record, I don't like hurting anyone or anything. Is it accidental? Oftentimes. Sometimes it's necessary. But it's never welcomed or wanted.]

He pulled a little yellow star out, shoving it in his mouth and chewing in a more aggressive manner than he had before their slumber.

A panel shifted above Nathan's head, and Wheatley took the initiative to shift the body away from it, to the wall that was shared with the bathroom door. An old green-screen monitor appeared, framed by a monitor border and a small camera to observe him properly. Words in the old, primitive font of ancient computers gone by typed themselves onto it.

**Good morning, Nathan Spurling. You appear to have rested well. Tomorrow is a big day.**

[Piss off.]

Nathan glared at the camera.

**I hope your little stretching exercises will be repeated tomorrow, because it says here in your file that you are not very athletic and you are much taller than the norm for my typical test subjects.**

(I'm on my way to mastering being mobile in this body. We'll be fine.)

**Rest well, Nathan Spurling. We have a lot of Science to do, starting tomorrow.**

(She has no idea what she's going to get. I've got my eyes on my prize.)

[She knows my file, huh? She thinks that's bothering me to talk about it, huh? She's got another thing coming. She's holding back, probably, but on the odd chance she's not got anything else, she's screwed. But this now, this isn't bothering me at all. I'm actually bored! Let's go!]

(Let the games begin!)

[Exactly!]

Nathan laughed, drawing GLaDOS's ire. Did he think she wasn't serious? Oh, was he in for a surprise.


	6. Tyrant's Circle I

Tyrant's Circle I

[FACT: In Dante's _Inferno_, denizens of the first Ring of the Seventh Circle of Hell were punished to stand in an incrementally deepening river of boiling blood in depths proportional to their level of unbridled violence and tyranny in life. Centaurs armed with bows and arrows lined the banks and shot those who dared move above their assigned depth within the river.]

Nathan sighed deeply, slowly getting up.

[So...dreams. I don't think I've ever dreamed so much in one resting cycle.]

(...That sort of thing wasn't some weird malfunction?)

[Not at all. Dreaming is normal, though not something I do often. I usually don't sleep so much, or dream so vividly. It probably has something to do with my brain slowly thawing out.]

(...Something's wrong with you?)

[...Nothing's wrong. Just recovering from being in cryofreezing for so long. Things are apt to slowly recover after such a long freeze.]

"_Is cryofreezing painful, boss?"_

"_Not that I can think of. You'll be fine."_

_[Don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit...]_

"_Nice long nap. I can get behind that. You should snag yourself one too; you've been skipping lunch. You sure you're alright?"_

"_I'm fine."_

_[Don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit...bloody Rattman, coming in here...telling me about that list...Don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit...]_

(That. There. I wanted to ask you about that. Those things. Him, especially.)

[But I wanted to ask you about those voices first. They're more important.]

Wheatley pondered for a moment, then sighed.

(Oh. Those things...)

Wheatley gave a disapproving smirk, rubbing his left arm in a manner of trying to comfort himself.

(The angel and devil sitting upon my shoulders. Didn't bother to do me any good for so long, until I was broken up a bit. For the longest time, I thought it was the angel guiding me, but it was the devil. I knew not his purpose or design, though I've always suspected it was something I caught from Her, but it didn't dawn on me that the tiny little subroutine's voice might have possibly been right about him...poor battered angel, he was.)

[I know them...]

(You do?)

[The Harpoon. The Mark II's penultimate payload. Built to destroy GLaDOS's core processors without any care of collateral outside of self-preservation. It wasn't supposed to run the chassis and aim at moving targets, but when he built things right, he built them right, I guess. Whoever tampered with you must've merely buried it with the angel...]

(Then the angel...?)

"_NAAAAATE!"_

_A warm and familiar voice processed through electronic filters, flailing handlebars and a bright dark yellow light flashed beside him, and up he was, out of his desk chair, crowbar in hand._

_Two guards leaped, unarmed yet armored, shocked to see the once-sleeping man seconds later out of his chair and swinging, cracking their helmets and kicking them out._

_Nobody was taking anything away this time, body armor or not..._

Wheatley seemed taken aback by the scene; he could not believe Nathan was capable of being as noble and outrightly defensive as he seemed.

[I would like to take the credit, but it's not like me to be so noble...I'm not noble. Just...attempting to keep promises...]

(I know the feeling.)

"_We're almost out, I promise."_

_Chell softly nodded and smiled, curled up tiredly in the corner, the babbling core resting in her lap while looking around like a little sentry._

"_The great thing about Her being dead? You get to sleep. Brilliant. You...sleep there, I'll keep watch. Won't let nothing hit you, because if it did, you'd be dead, and then we wouldn't get out of here, would we? Not at all, so. I'll just...shout if I see something..."_

_He looked back at her; she was slumped over, already asleep._

"_Okay then, rest up. I'll just...look around..."_

[She's an angel when she sleeps.]

(She's an angel all the time. Silent, tenacious little angel...not-very-brain-damaged head on her shoulders...)

Wheatley sighed.

[We'll find her. You're just as tenacious as she seems, I can feel it.]

GLaDOS continued observing the recently-combined hybrid of a human in his little blue jumpsuit. Besides the little screaming and clawing fit last night, the human seemed to be coping with the moron well...or was it the other way around? It was hard to tell what was going on in the human's head, and the only surefire thing she could manage to tell was that it was clearly the moron doing all of those movement exercises earlier.

Now he just sat, a pensive look on his dumb-looking face. There was always a hint of sadness in it, sometimes a look of arrogance as he had given when she spoke to him earlier. Was that part of the extensive healing process she had read notes about when grafting everything together; a severely intensive analysis of all past events? She hoped so; the little idiot could use some time-out time to sit there, stewing in those little human emotions, thinking about how stupid he was. Humans had a lot of emotions tailored to being angry at oneself. It was perfect.

She hated him just sitting around, just perspiring and converting vitamins and minerals into flesh and waste. Such simple and basic Science that everything did; he needed to be active...at least get up and move again. At least then he was doing something. Bad things happened when that idiot sat around having ideas; she could only imagine what having a semi-intelligent human strapped to him would do, especially if that human thought any of those terrible ideas were any good. A dangerous murderer, influenced by an idiotic monster? Oh, what a nightmare.

She decided to converse with him again as she summoned up some form of edible substances listed in her files as a 'breakfast meal'.

**I know we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, Nathan Spurling, but I assure you that you are safe here for as long as I deem reasonable for Science-related purposes.**

**I am actually keeping you under observation in case of some form of biological rejection of that idiot's cybernetic wavelengths having being regrafted into your brain. The process itself isn't inherently dangerous, but I was left with having to graft onto a Personality Core that was last seen being 100% corrupted and physically damaged beyond repair because there were no other options in place.**

[You're fully corrupted from the chassis?]

(It wasn't my fault! I was already cracked from Her squeezing me like a grape!)

[How did you manage to get fully corrupted?]

(How do you think they got me out of that chassis?)

[…Should have figured.]

GLaDOS noticed that his body seemed to either freeze and merely repeat the last action like a suddenly acquired tic, his eyes glazing over as she continued feeding information onto the screen. She had seen this numerous times before; it was some sort of long-time processing issue he seemed to have. She wasn't sure what was causing it, but she was certain that the moron had something to do with it. She ran a small test.

**I'm going to murder you with neurotoxin if you don't blink within three seconds.**

Three seconds went by, and nothing happened, just an empty glare at the screen. So he didn't react to outside stimuli when he went into this mode; interesting, and noted.

She erased the screen, then waited until the he once again blinked. Unsure if he actually knew it was happening, she decided to break it to him. She wasn't a monster.

**I know you understand the whole process without me explaining it to you, so I can only offer condolences. My calculations state that, if active and under extreme duress, the wavelengths belonging to that idiot might suddenly and massively regurgitate a torrent of corrupted fragments across its biological circuitry, causing it to shut down and leave you completely disabled.**

**The tests I built to run you through have been limited in their stress inductors, but I make no promises that the moron won't just have an accident halfway over a light bridge, send you into a seizure, and drop you into an acid pit.**

[Oh those kinds of lines. Breaking up groups. I heard about those sort of experiments she would run; the groups would start killing each other off like a gladiator pit.]

**I'm not a monster. I want to test you and your capabilities, because you are a walking Science marvel, despite your unfortunate setbacks with the materials I had to work with. So as a gesture of good will, please enjoy this nutritious pile of vitamins, minerals, and fluids I have compiled for you.**

The vending door gave a dinging sound, and he got up. Cautiously approaching and even more cautiously opening the door, the smell of eggs greeting him as he revealed the contents.

A small metal cup with a circular yellow disk that was supposedly eggs sat next to similarly shaped things on a small metal plate that he guessed were supposed to be sausage patties, and a small mug of earl grey tea with a small container of sugar cubes next to that. A fork, spoon, and knife at on top of the plate, next to the sausage.

It smelled real, and nothing like neurotoxin, but he wasn't sure where she had gotten any of this.

**Please eat and relax. I have other tests to run before you and I have our Science together. The last thing you need is to...stress out.**

The screen went blank, and Nathan scowled.

[I almost feel like not eating. But starving to death would be desirable to her, too. Gives her less work to do.]

(If it's edible, just eat it. You need your strength. I need your strength.)

[Please stay calm.]

(If I was going to have issues with stress I would have had them ages ago, and if their results were as catastrophic as she claims they are, I doubt I'd be here talking to you. So just eat.)

Nathan sighed and downed the meal, trying to not think about anything.

She dived through all the tests she preserved, trudging through all the corrupted files, more and more piling up every day. She found what she was looking for and lined them all up...of course, they needed polishing...

The clock continued ticking, and GLaDOS did not drop a line, unlock a door, or even give them a little sign that anything was changing in the immediate future.

Breakfast was finished, but there was no sink, and all Nathan could do was stare at it, sitting on the table…growing germs. Breeding bacteria. Just…sitting there.

She knew it bugged him. She had his file. She was poking at his nerves.

Wheatley perked up in the tense silence and began babbling random facts about things he had learned, in the hopes that he wouldn't stress out, and then launched into long anecdotes of human surveillance and all the strange things the humans did, and some of them would make Nathan chuckle from the construct's naivete.

Talking about the couples brought a strange tingling awkwardness, and Nathan muttered a line about feeling like he was sitting in their closets. However, he still seemed to enjoy the end results of the warm fuzzy moments that would inevitably turn intimate and more basic in nature.

It turned out that Wheatley, despite his nonsensical and overbearing babbling tendencies, was a good storyteller. Even if he knew nothing about what it was the people in the story were doing, he did his best to describe everything. Nathan appreciated the construct's ability to do so, because it was not something he had possessed before: the ability to tell a nice and engaging story. He would have to try eventually.

The hours seemed to sail by, and save for a few needed trips to the bathroom, showering habits, and eventually dragging the utensils to the sink and washing them out, it all seemed rather uneventful. But Wheatley's babblings about everything he never got to see in-between his cryofreezing and just shortly before he met Chell...all the things he'd never see...it was amazing at the very least.

The time had continued to merely float past, and before either of them realized it, it was 2 am.

The train horn went off again, causing them to simultaneously flinch and grasp at his ears.

(Oh look, teamwork. Simultaneous actions. So we don't have to do that thing again, do we?)

[What does she want now?]

Nathan eyed the screen, and it blinked on.

**Good morning, Nathan Spurling and accompanying moron. Tell me, after a day of being absolutely useless to the cause of furthering Science, how do you feel?**

[I am still not used to her bickering.]

(She only gets worse. At least she's not calling you fat or adopted yet.)

[Because I'm neither.]

(Chell wasn't half that, but she at least insisted both were true.)

**It is required that humans consume enough sustenance to keep active, so I will provide you with a more nutritious meal for the day than I had done yesterday.**

A small bell rang and the vending door rumbled.

**I have noticed that you have not continued consuming the contents of the decorated bag of soft and edible nutritious materials. Are you stockpiling? I'm impressed. That was clearly your decision, Nathan; I wouldn't expect the moron to have come up with that sort of ingenious plan to stretch supplies.**

[I know she's attempting to set us against each other with insults by complimenting me, but her calling you a moron insults me more than I can tell it upsets you.]

(I've gotten used to her just calling me a moron. I know I don't possess top-shelf intelligence, and I don't need it rubbed in. But it's all I expect from her. The effect is moot this time around, if I'm honest.)

The smell of breakfast wafted in through the grates, and Nathan walked over to inspect it.

Metal cafeteria tray and matching utensils this time. Earl grey tea again, larger mug, dead top center. Some sort of tannish meaty-looking substance, pulled apart in strips to make its origin indiscernible, sitting next to a small mountain of mashed potatoes, both covered in a brownish viscous fluid he could only guess was supposed to be gravy.

[I'm not sure what any of this is…both yesterday and today weren't the usual pre-packaged and highly processed fare I've come to expect from this place. She's actually making all of this, I think.]

He pulled the tray out and brought it closer to his face, sharply inhaling a few times to draw out a better scent.

(My sensors could have determined wh-)

[I know, but all we have right now is my nose, so…]

(Ah, calm down.)

[I'm just worried that none of this is actual food. You know, like fast food joints. Everything's so processed, it's not even food anymore, but it plays the part well, ya know?]

(Well, taste it.)

[The taste was odd yesterday. The tea was fine, though. Plain, no cream or sugar. Perfect. She's trying to cater to my tastes to win me over. I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not backstabbing you for her.]

(I appreciate it. Anyone else, knowing me and what I did, probably would.)

[We're all a little bit monstrous at times, I understand. But some of us are downright intolerable tyrants.]

Nathan gave a soft smile and sat down on the floor, then picked up the utensils and poked around the meat product.

[Looks game-y. Definitely not domesticated and/or heavily processed. Definitely trying to appeal to me.]

After a quick taste test pleased his palette, he plowed through the whole meal like a rabid dog, not stopping until the tray was near spotless. Only his innate distrust in how clean the metal tray was kept him from licking it clean.

A pinging sound diverted his attention back to the screen.

**If I knew you were such an avid fan of crow, I wouldn't have gone out of my way to have caught that deer yesterday.**

[Crow?]

Nathan stared in terror at the plate.

(OH GOD BIRD! BIRD! BIRD! BIRD!)

Wheatley tried to wrest control of Nathan's body away from him to flee as far as he could from the tray, but Nathan resisted.

[It's a...dead...bird...ugh, a crow! What's next, a magpie...pie?]

(BIRD BIRD BIRD BIRD BIRD BIRD BIRD I ATE A BIRD...)

[What is wrong with you?]

(...Birds...livid...)

A shuddering ran through him.

(Crows are extremely intelligent and are considered the top tier of intelligence in both the bird community and the wild animal community. Crows are known to forge tools with their beaks and take revenge against those who have attacked a fellow crow. Murders of crows who are not related will seek a target that has done so, even when the offender has never met the specific murder or done anything grievous against them...)

[Wheatley?]

(...Huh? What?)

[...The bird is dead. She killed it. We're fine.]

(But what if they find out I'm in here? I MURDERED EGGS.)

[...Oh. Well, I doubt they'll recognize a human as being a vessel for a robotic death ball.]

**Now that you have ingested the necessary nutrients to provide sustenance through the duration of tests I am going to run you through, let us commence.**

The door nearest to him unlocked and slowly opened.

[I'm not going.]

(Then I'll drag you. We must, or she will kill us.)

[She's not going to kill us.]

(She's just saying she won't so we slip up, and then she'll kill us. Let's just get this going.)

[I'm not giving in to anything she wants!]

(Chell is out there somewhere. Please, let's just test and find her.)

[...Fine.]

Nathan sneered and stood up, then approached the door. It shot open to welcome him in, a dark emptiness waiting for him on the other side. As he walked in cautiously, a cracking erupted from a speaker in the silence.

"Hello, Nathan Spurling. Since you will not be able to read the screen from this far away, talking to you is in order. So, let's begin."

The lights shot on, and he found himself in an empty room with dark grey walls and a door on the opposite side. In the middle stood a podium, atop it, a dual portal device.

"Please acquire the dual portal device so we may begin testing."

Nathan glared and stood his ground, but Wheatley moved Nathan's body forwards with a bit of extra willpower.

(Just get to Chell. Get to Chell, pray she doesn't murder us, then get out of here. Having a portal gun always seemed to help her escape from trouble, so it'll help us. You're smart, I'm...not as mentally shackled, so we can handle this. Please stop struggling.)

[You're moving me against my will...]

Nathan ceased struggling, a sense of awe replacing his anger, his glare dropping near immediately.

Wheatley reached out and grabbed the gun, and Nathan's discerning eye caught some sort of debris on one of the prongs. There was little to be found, but it was enough to make Nathan take control back for the sole purpose of cleaning the prong until it appeared to gleam in the light.

(What's wrong?)

[I am not carrying around a piece of machinery with...what is this? Some sort of...did someone stick food on this? Honestly, no respect for anything.]

(Nathan, we should go.)

He inspected the gun after a long and vigorous rubdown of the prong; it looked much better.

[Alright.]

(Finally! Let's go!)

[You're too excited to test.]

(I'm too excited to find Chell, is what. Even if she completely decides to kick us into the dark depths of this facility. I...I don't care!)

[At least you're motivated...]

Nathan sighed as Wheatley swiftly scurried to the next door, which opened up to reveal a square yellow elevator.

(Right on up!)

[This's a service elevator...]

As the elevator slowly reached the top, Wheatley stood, stunned, eyes wide and terrified.

(Oh god...)

[...What?]

(No. Nonononono.)

[What?]

(This...is my test.)


	7. Tyrant's Circle II

Tyrant's Circle II

[FACT: "It is true he lives; in his necessity / I alone must lead him through this valley. / Fate brings him here, not curiosity. / From singing Alleluia the sublime / spirit who sends me came. He is no bandit. / Nor am I one who ever stooped to crime. / But in the name of the Power by which I go / this sunken way across the floor of Hell, / assign us one of your troop whom we may follow, / that he may guide us to the ford, and there / carry across on his back the one I lead, / for he is not a spirit to move through air." -The Inferno, Canto XII; Seventh Circle, Ring 1.]

A wide open room, white portaling panels lining the wall nearest to him and the wall farthest. In the middle of the room on a peninsula of a platform surrounded by an acid moat, a solitary manual button stood. On the other side a pneumatic tube sat above a Super Button. The solution was extremely obvious, yet somehow the black-framed monitor looming high above the button suggested a imminent danger.

(Cheeky bitch filled the moat! Show-off. And, and! Why did she remove the "TEST" bit? That was brilliant!)

[You built this test?]

(It was my very first official test, yes. I was very proud of it, and that horrible AI has gone and wrecked the decorational aesthetics of it!)

[...It's a poorly constructed test. I could solve it right now, and I've never even done a test befor-]

(NO! No.)

Wheatley grinned widely, standing his ground.

(Let her stew.)

[...What?]

(Stew in the burning anticipation of euphoria. Perfect time to do so. Chell did this to me, and frankly, I think She should get a taste of it, too. Chell never denied her the pleasure, no...but I will. I will.)

"_I'll give you a hint: button. That's all I'm going to say, button."_

_Chell stood, arms crossed, looking up at the monitor, unamused._

_(...What did...what am I doing wrong? Did I confuse her...?)_

_He shuddered, wanting to either make her test or go back to his book. He was almost done with getting the translator to finish translating "Inhabited Island" for him, but it was going to be too late. The agitation of the burning itch to test, coupled with his frustrations with Chell and that annoying potato battery, were becoming overwhelming._

_{Let me handle this. Got to be a bit heavy handed with the stubborn ones.}_

"_Come on!"_

_Chell sneered and slowly approached the button, stopping halfway._

"_COME ON."_

_(What's she doing? I...I just told her how important testing was to me...and here she is, just...standing there, making me wait...)_

_{She doesn't care about you or your feelings. She's just playing around with her little potato friend.}_

_(...She wouldn't do that to me...)_

_{And yet there she is...just standing there...}_

(Bloody...lying...Harpoon...why did I...listen to you...)

A boiling rage seethed through his neurons, yet quickly retreated, leaving Wheatley silent for a length of time Nathan thought impossible for him to stay silent; several full seconds.

[...Wheatley?]

A sudden rush of consciousness near-leaped to greet Nathan's call.

(How much time's ticked away? Why're we just standing here, rotting? Up, up! Let's go!)

[But you didn't want to do thi-AHHHHHHHH!]

Wheatley quickly sprinted, slapping his hand down on the manual button, dropping a cube down on the Super Button and opening the door on a third wall.

(Okay, I got this one! You just sit back and have yourself a break!)

[I'm not doing anyth-SLOW DOWN!]

Without an excess of thought, Wheatley dropped portals on both ends of the room, allowing himself to cross over to the path to the open door, and through the doorway with little more and a quick crouch to avoid colliding with the top of the door frame while bouncing off the heels of the boots.

Swiftly approaching the elevator, Wheatley collapsed, falling silent and letting Nathan's body recover. Wheatley seemed stunned by the quick dynamic burst of speed and action while Nathan felt exhausted.

[Why did you do that? You could've given me a fair warning!]

(I...I had to get out of that room…I'm fine. I'm fine, just…do the next test without me, please.)

[…Alright.]

The elevator arrived, and Nathan stood up, finally getting a feel for his own body again, under his own control. It seemed like it had been forever and a day.

Wheatley was tense and withdrawn; GLaDOS was clearly getting the better of him fairly early. He stood in front of the door, not bothering to go in just yet before he talked to Wheatley. The lack of relatively positive emotions was unnerving him over something so...simple. He had to try something to bring him back to his cheery nature.

[She wants you to feel miserable, Wheatley. Don't let her get to you, okay? We all have our faults. We're all equal here.]

(I let it get the best of me. I let it slip right past my morality like a slimy snake in the grass. And now look at me.)

[We're all human, we all falter, so chin up.]

Wheatley did not reply.

The door opened, and a lighted panel greeted him with a large "01" with a tiny subtitle of "01/19", and lots of bold and greyed out icons he wasn't going to bother deciphering. The room was tall and bi-sected via large glass plates on the ceiling of the first area, a large blue spiraling tunnel leading through the hole in the bisection, and a large black monitor with a smashed screen in the back right corner of the first floor.

_She flew across the room via portal, foot extended in a flying kick. The glass shattered around the point of impact, nearly breaking the frame and obscuring his view._

_(Why did she do that?)_

_{Spite. Spite because you've got her doing this and she's too selfish to want to help. Just laugh it off.}_

_(...I can't...)_

_{Must I do everything...?}_

"_Aw, bless your little primate brain. I'm not actually in the room with you, am I? Technology, it's complicated. Ah, you can't hurt the big ol' God face."_

(Just...just use the blue spirally Excursion Funnel thing to float upstairs...)

Nathan followed his command and jumped into the tunnel, and to his amazement, he actually began floating, the light beam pressing him upwards like a strong, controlled wind tunnel.

[Amazing!]

(...I know. I didn't fry myself for giving you a hint.)

[It's like I'm...flying!]

(Yes, I suppose it's like that...)

[...Stop being such a pain in the arse. This's amazing. Human flight without externally attached appendages, achieved! ...Slow-moving, and limited to the beam's range, but possible! This, Wheatley, is true non-robotic Science!]

Wheatley continued, seemingly disinterested.

(There's a cube here on a ledge; just grab it and toss it in the Excursion Funnel after popping a portal downstairs on the checkered pattern. The funnel will press the cube against the button, and she'll get her little scratch so we can leave.)

His flat and near-monotone dissertations so far had left something to be desired as Nathan continued following his commands. They had managed to find a way to bypass their physical freeze-up for the time being, as even with their dialogues growing long, he still managed to keep the body mobile and on-task.

[...You didn't let me solve this one at all.]

(Sorry...a little jubilant over finding out I can actually help you solve these if it's required.)

[You really sound it, Wheatley. Almost too excited.]

(I'm just...)

He sighed deeply as Nathan walked them out to the next elevator.

Nathan began to charge up to the door, and Wheatley gasped.

(Not so fast! If she's going in chronological order, one bad move will definitely kill you in here. Absolutely 100% guaranteed, never-ending fall to your, and subsequently my, death. Which sounds mildly refreshing at this moment, but I'd rather do that long after we get Chell out of here, okay?)

[...Right.]

Nathan continued onwards, being careful as he wandered onto the solitary catwalk. He looked down, noting that the Excursion Funnel appeared to shoot to a white portal wall, and he could see another portaling panel as he looked to his right. The path was practically painted for him.

(I'm...going to try and think to myself, okay? If you need help, just...just call for me. I'll keep an ear out...metaphorically speaking.)

There seemed to only be one path to go anyways; he fathomed that it wouldn't be too difficult to traverse, Wheatley assisting him or not. Looking up, he spotted a Super Button and the door out.

(Oh, and remember your portal colors in here. If you forget, death. Very painful death.)

[I figured.]

(The portal walls are all strategically placed. And portal colors. Remember which is which. Can't emphasize that enough.)

[If you're going to go silent, please do so I can do this.]

While Nathan looked and moved around, Wheatley silently mused on. Whatever it was that bothered him, Nathan couldn't determine. Probably still feeling downtrodden. He wasn't going to press the issue, but if Wheatley continued being this reclusive...

He shook his head as he reached the top; he had to make an effort. It was the right thing to do.

[Wheatley?]

(Press the button and a cube will fall in. I'm still angry that she replaced all my turret cubes with her old-fashioned weighted cubes. At least mine chirped at you in a strange garbled manner to break up the silence...)

[No, I got that. I just wanted to ask you a question.]

(...Oh?)

[I know you probably don't want to think about it but...testing euphoria.]

(Oh. That.)

Wheatley sighed.

(What about it?)

[I'm...curious to know what it feels like. If I know the feeling, perhaps I'll be as equally terrified of it...or maybe it's not even the same as what you think. I'd like to be the judge of that, while I have a moment.]

(...Oh. I...I don't wish it upon anyone to want to feel it as badly as I've wanted to but, if it's purely for comparison, I wouldn't mind trying to simulate it through organic circuitry just to take my mind off things. just solve the test, and get in a nice, comfortable, and stable position, because I have no bloody idea what it could do to you.)

[Not a problem.]

Nathan quickly went through the motions, moving the weighted cube to the button and opening the door. He then looked around for a bit, softly creeping about on the tips of the boots. He stopped at the edge of the doorway. A plain elevator shaft with a plain pill-shaped elevator.

[Think the elevator might be a prime spot?]

(They're fairly stable, unless she drops us.)

[Then let's. There's at least a little privacy in them.]

He dashed in and braced himself.

[Let the simulation commence, Wheatley.]

Wheatley focused all his concentration on a proper recreation of the sensation, and it quickly surged through every inch of Nathan's cerebral synapses, then straight down the brain stem and through the spinal cord.

Nathan gasped, flailing back involuntarily. Pupils dilating, every muscle growing shaky. He dropped his portal gun as his body temperature spiked and his knees quaked, wobbling until he finally collapsed to his knees despite his struggle to keep upright.

[Oh God...]

A simultaneously foreign yet familiar feeling eked through him; incredibly painful yet insanely pleasuring. It wasn't quite what he was expecting, but he was certain that his body simply wasn't equipped to properly translate what Wheatley tried hard to convey to him.

A calming and peaceful numbness flowed through him from his legs on up as he steadied himself as best he could with his trembling arms and hands. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to hurt so badly, but the entire ordeal left a tingling, sizzling, burning, aching...want...

The sensation began to die down as he continued to flail, giving him time to breathe. His body might not survive a repetition, he feared, but the aftermath was slowly becoming an almost zen-like calm that filtered through every little crevice in his mind and body.

(Am I hurting you? I am, aren't I?)

[Augh, that's tremendous...]

(Ah! That's completely how I felt! This is both wonderful and horrible, mostly horrible. Oh god, what am I doing to you? I knew this was a bad idea...)

[I could...go for a second opinion...]

(...What?)

Nathan grinned as his body slowly came back under his control and allowed him to rigidly stand back up. He grabbed the gun, still feeling somewhat...unsatisfied with the reality that surrounded him. The burning sensation began to permeate now; there was little that occupied him that seemed quite as dire as pinpointing the source and ridding himself of it...or at the very least, satiating it.

[You know what? I...I have an idea. Wheatley?]

(What?)

[I don't think it quite transferred properly since you're in my body and all. So...would you like to see if we can replicate it better in my body using a different method?]

('It'...the euphoria? How do you suggest we do that?)

[I have an idea...but we should do it now.]

(...Now?)

[...Does the next chamber have an alcove we can duck into? The elevator is too restraining if I have to stretch out.]

(The hallway leading to the chamber is bent at a right angle; we can lean against that and not enter the chamber.)

[Perfect.]

Nathan unzipped his jumpsuit part way, still feeling overheated and slightly uncomfortable. The form fitting undergarments Aperture provided its test subjects were quite constricting on his package on a normal occasion, let alone now that he was feeling aroused.

The elevator opened to reveal the wide open starting area. Too wide open. He'd rather be in a corner; less likely to have a camera hanging about. Up the stairs and through the door, a display monitor hung greeting him before the left-hand turn. He threw himself down in front of the sign, not particularly caring as he unzipped the jumpsuit fully, stripping it off his upper body as fast as he could, letting it cling to him from mid-thigh.

(Wha, wha, what're you doing? Nathan...)

[You and I shall attempt to recreate a euphoric response in my body...manually.]

(...what? Nononononono. This's, this's...insane. I don't want to. Is this what you meant? Ugh.)

[How do you suggest we solve my dilemma, then?]

(...dilemma?)

Nathan looked down at the stiffened mass between his legs.

[You've gone and set me off, and I can promise you that if we don't deal with it this time, it's going to be a very irritating time getting through the rest of these tests.]

Wheatley seemed to think about it for a moment, then mentally sighed.

(Well, if it's a genuine problem, then I suppose we must solve it. What should be done first?)

[Well, first, I think that since it's your fault,you should fix this.]

(What? Are you mad? I don't know the first thing about...that!)

[Oh, yes you do. You just don't think you do. Now, I'll only jump in if you've completely ruined the mood.]

(...If you think I do, then...alright, alright...um...augh...think, think...)

Nathan pulled both tops off, then looked between them. He then slid the orange tank back away from him, keeping the white Aperture tank at his side.

[Alright, no, this won't work.]

He slid the jumpsuit down to his ankles, then quickly did the same to his undergarments, his ever-stiffening member rather relieved that he had done so.

(Oh! Had a brainwave. Do you remember my stroll through Sector 3-C?)

[Oh, I couldn't forget all those naughty romps you spoke of...anyways, yes. Why?]

(I was thinking...and this may be a terrible idea, so stop me if need be, alright? So, she would have her legs on the outsides of your legs, facing you while being fully disrobed from the waist down. Like that one middle-aged couple with the gold bands on their fingers.)

Nathan smirked and slid down the wall slightly as a blurry image of a woman straddling him, naked from the waist down, slowly materialized in his mind.

(I'm starting to forget what she looks like...)

A deep sigh followed.

[You're fine. Continue.]

Nathan cracked his knuckles and prepared himself as Wheatley continued.

(So the woman was leaning against the headboard, and rocking her hips back and forth as such...)

The woman, who was slowly focusing into a solid version of whom Nathan could only assume was Chell, leaned forwards, her hands placed on the wall on either side of his head.

(This isn't so difficult...)

The woman began rocking back and forth at the hips, and Nathan began steadily matching her pace with his hand.

[Faster...]

The illusionary woman did as he asked, and he grunted while quickening the stroking pace on his shaft.

"Ungh...ahhh..."

The immense pressure began to reach its peak after only a few minutes, and Nathan was sensing Wheatley getting either bored or agitated...

(Augh, how long does this take?)

She leaned forwards, locking lips with him, slowly sliding a hand over to grab his hair. A surge rushed through him, and he nearly came then and there.

(Helping?)

[Almost...]

"Agh..."

He bit his lip and gave several rough strokes just as the woman began kissing her way down his jawline, down his neck.

"Ungh!"

The pressure finally hit top, and one last stroke sent him overboard. Every muscle within him tensed, and one last loud groan escaped him as he shot his viscous load.

The illusion seemed to near-instantly disappear, and Wheatley seemed to drop into a comatose silence as the rush of hormones and chemicals flooded the two consciousnesses. Nathan panted heavily and nearly passed out in exhaustion; it had been far too long and he was terribly out of practice, it seemed.

After what seemed like a long rest, Nathan came to his senses, and grabbed the white tank, wiping up the evidence swiftly with it before getting himself back into suit. The layer of sweat and grime he had accumulated in his venture left him perturbed and mentally twitching as he rolled the white tank up.

The click of a speaker rang through the hallway and he looked up, noticing that a camera was jutting out of the ceiling, pointed at him in an inhuman sort of glaring. It wasn't there when he first arrived; she had decided to spy on him.

"That is the most disgusting thing any test subject has ever done in the history of this facility while inside a test chamber, you monster. That has nothing to do with Science, you know. Do you feel better, murdering all those potential human beings, you murderous little human?"

Nathan grinned and reached up, hanging the white tank over the camera lens.

"Augh! Disgusting! Contaminating my facility and my equipment with your biological matter! I'll have to sanitize this hall fully, and my optical viewer…"

He grinned and walked into the chamber. He just dropped his chance of survival by two percent, at least, but he felt a lot better. He had given her something genuine about him to nag about.

He felt fortunate that, even without Wheatley, the solution seemed simple. Again the Excursion Funnel was his primary mode of travel and key piece of test solution. Within a few minutes, he was out the door and heading to the next elevator, albeit a bit tired from his previous exertions.

As he approached the elevator, he felt a stirring in his subconscious, and he stopped right in front of the empty doors.

(AHHH! Ahh…huh? Where are we? Are we…did we get through that test? Did you do that one without me?)

[Did that last one myself, yes. Not too difficult. Just time-consuming.]

(Was…was my attempt successful? I think I had a power surge or something equivalent.)

[It was quite a triumph.]

(Wonderful. Noted, then. Huge success, the attempt. Does it…feel like that all the time?)

[Every time.]

Nathan grinned, walking into the elevator.

(That's both a wonderful thing to hear, and a terrible thing to think about. Every time, that blissful reaction…I don't need to get addicted to anything like that again.)

[You have quite a good restraint on that…particular sort of…'itch', honestly. You'll be fine.]

(Really? That's wonderful to hear.)

A long pause fell between them as the elevator took them through the facility to the next chamber.

(So we haven't gone into any other chambers?)

[No, why?]

(…I don't want to go into the next one. I can't find any gaps that will lead us out through anything but a long drop to death via terminal velocity and air resistance.)

[Man up, you'll be fine. I'm right here.]

(I…I don't want to go in there…)

_(I feel like I'll die…)_

_{Vent, then. Just say the worst things that come to mind.}_

_(I'll…I'll just say what She would say! Chell's never liked any of those!)_

[Just don't think about it.]

(Hard not to, since it's the only direction to go and trying to just...turn myself off is impossible while you're awake, for whatever reason, unless you want to do that procreation simulation sort of thing again...)

[I'm actually good with that for now.]

(So I guess I'm not blacking out any time soon. Gah.)

[Just sit back and shush.]

Wheatley sighed deeply as the elevator stopped and opened.

The chamber was quite straightforward; a wide gap and a great height between the exit door and the entry door, another Excursion Funnel test it seemed. Not quite the appropriate number of portaling surfaces, from an initial tally, but most of the room was out of sight. The telltale red laser pointer of a sentry turret shone off far to their left, as well as a seemingly random Super Button. A broken monitor greeted them, and Wheatley winced at the sight of it.

"_That last test was was seriously disappointing. Apparently, being civil isn't motivating you, so let's go and try it Her way, okay?"_

_{Perfect! She's overweight, and she was adopted! Go!}_

_[Don't be so rude; what did she do to you?]_

_{Oh, shut it.}_

"_Fatty. Adopted Fatty. Fatty-fatty-no-parents."_

_Chell looked more annoyed than hurt._

_{...Honestly?}_

_(It's the best I could do! I don't say things like that to anything!)_

_{How embarrassing!}_

"_And...?"_

_{Oh, and now the potato's joining in. Lovely.}_

"_What?"_

"_What exactly is wrong with being adopted?"_

"_What's wrong with being adopted? Well!"_

_(...Good question.)_

_{I'll handle this. I knew you couldn't hack it.}_

"_Um...lack of parents, number one!"_

_A soft mumbling that he could not hear properly interrupted his explanation, and even Chell had to bend the gun back towards her head to hear the malicious spud speak._

_{Out of the way!}_

_A painful and very noticeable shift in mental control occurred as the usually cowering benevolent voice took over._

"_Um...and also...nothing!"_

_{Absolutely nothing!}_

_A sudden rush of glee as the benevolent whisper focused on Chell, attempting to do its best to smile at her. She wasn't bothering to notice. she was still mad at him, too mad._

"_But, well, some of my best friends actually are orphans..."_

"_Also, look at her, you moron. She's not fat."_

_{That starchy bitch!}_

_A heavy shove and shift in dominance as the malevolent voice thrust itself to the forefront, puffing out his core side panels and plastering a glare around his optic._

"_I! AM NOT! A MORON! Just do the test, just do the test..."_

(Enough, enough, get me away from that monitor!)

Wheatley clutched the left side of Nathan's head and winced, and Nathan got the point from the seething pain radiating from the former core's point of consciousness.

As he rounded the bend hastily, he failed to recall the red laser beam and the ever-so-angelic voice.

"Target acquired."

Pip-pip-pip-pip-pi-riii-ptinig!

Nathan howled and dove behind the black wall into the alcove, his right arm spurting a small trickle of blood from the entry and exit wound of the bullet. It hadn't struck anything major, but the shock from the wound was enough to shoot through Wheatley's radiating pain.

(Hnng! Ahhhh!)

Everything from him seemed to stop as Nathan began applying pressure. The urge to curl up into a ball from Wheatley was acknowledged slightly by Nathan as he tucked his legs in to his chest to prevent the cleverly stationed turret from having another area to strike him again.

A shiver ran through him as Wheatley began to whisper.

(Selene, Phobos, Deimos, Dactyl, Io, Europa, Gan-…Ganymede…Ca…llisto…augh!)

Another shiver, his right arm going numb.

"_Mimas, Enceladus, Tethya, Dione, Rhea, Tita-"_

"_Oh, cut it out, kid! You're just wasting your air!"_

_Nathan glared at the young blond, making him cringe and shiver. The tanned, slightly buff brunette man sitting across from the blond crossed his arms as he glowered, apparently feeling that a lack of an immediate positive response was intolerable._

"_Man up, Morganstern! You're wasting your oxygen, crying about a little bit of neurotoxin!"_

_The short man with frizzy black hair and wide-rimmed lenses shot a look at the angry brunette. "And you're not wasting yours by scolding him…?" He cooed, a soft and almost monotone voice slipping from inside his face mask._

"_Please calm down," Nathan muttered, trying to take control of the situation. "and Livingston, I don't need your help." He shot a dirty look at the brunette, giving him every reason to get an equally dirty look back. Nathan looked back over at Girard, who was still rocking and shaking._

"_We're gonna die in here…" Girard softly sobbed._

_Nathan had no idea how to respond. If Girard had been Sarah, he would have already had him in a big comforting hug, but this was just an intern he hired three weeks ago - a male intern at that! - curled up and sobbing. He told himself that physical contact was absolutely off-limits. But…the poor thing was mortified._

_He placed a hand on Girard's shoulder, applying a firm and steady grip to stop him from rocking to and fro. "We'll live, I promise. Just stop crying and take a nice calming breath."_

_Girard nodded, following his instructions. A warm smile crossed his visage, and the young blonde reached out and tightly hugged him, making him jump._

"_Thank you."_

"_You're…ugh, wel...come. Pleaseletgoofme." Nathan shoved the young man off of him, giving a confused look. So physical contact was completely fine with this one…_

[...Wheatley?]

(...Triton...Nereid...Cha...ron...augh!...Is there a way to stop that pain? How long is that going to hurt as badly as it is? Please make it stopmakeitstopmakeitstop this is the least wonderful feeling on the planet...)

[We're lucky the bullet didn't strike anything vital, but since it's unlikely that I'll get time to heal, it'll take a few days.]

(DAYS? NO! NONONONONONONONO, FIX IT! MAKE THE PAIN ST-)

The headache spiked immensely and Nathan dropped the portal gun, clenching his head with both hands and growling.

Wheatley fell silent as the headache lessened gradually, and Nathan found himself alone again.

He peeked around the corner slightly to survey, his curiosity getting met with a volley of bullets nearly taking an eye out. He realized a solution to his problem immediately and stuck his left arm out momentarily, portal gun in hand, to pop a portal down the hallway along with one to guide the excursion funnel. A saccharine "Whoa~!" and a flailing of robotic arm panels told him his shot was dead on. Dropping a second swiftly placed portal dropped the killer angel into a deep pit located directly behind it and a still-cheery "I don't blame you..." hearkened an end to being shot in the chamber.

Then, with all the speed he could muster despite his injuries and exhaustion, he quickly tested and determined what the Super Button did and how to work around its Excursion Funnel-reversal mechanics. It took him quite a bit longer without Wheatley's help than he had wanted, and as he exited, the crackle of the speakers only served to remind him that she was enjoying this.

"**I hope there are no long-term negative effects to you having what appears to be a minor stroke, Nathan. If that moron goes and kills you accidentally...I'll be very disappointed.**

"**You are, and I hate to admit it, actually quite good at this. I can't see why you were ever so objected to doing these, going so far as to kill yourself and all your teammates to keep from doing this. You haven't had quite as many incidents of lower body dis-coordination as this chart seems to imply you should have."**

He ignored her, hopping into the elevator and sitting down for the ride.

[Wheatley...]

No response.

[Wheatley...?]

He closed his eyes and focused on trying to mentally reach out to him, finding him mentally reeling ever so quietly, as if tossing and turning in his sleep. Well, he had gotten his wish in the worst way possible, didn't he? At least he wasn't completely toast; Nathan surmised that if Wheatley had done so, he'd already have croaked as well, too. He needed to run a diagnostic.

[Hey, Wheatley?]

He dove further, into a point of static and white noise. Something didn't seem right, and leaving it alone was not acceptable.

He sharply inhaled as he hit something that responded, something entirely broken...

_A figure, shadowy, fuzzed out like bad reception. The room itself was like a bad optical illusion, but it was clearly a lab, a mechanic's lab._

_The sound of a power drill buzzed in and out, bad reception, speaker shorting in and out._

"_You kno-...like-...bet-r whe-...laughing..."_

_WHRRRRRRRRRRR~_

"_Let'im go! I command you to!"_

_The clearest line, backed up by the drill's malicious churning. It was his voice, Wheatley's voice._

_A woman from nearby, her voice just as garbled._

"_...Si-...still pow-d on...shock yourself..."_

_A wicked grimace seemed to spread impossibly across the shadow's hidden face, and the background was melting, the focus on the grin and the drill sharpening until they were the only recognizable things._

"_I'm still in charge ! I order you to stop!"_

_He could feel the helpless flailing of appendages he didn't have but that he quickly likened to arms and legs._

"_No you're not."_

_The grin seemed to sharpen into monstrous fangs, spreading entirely wide until it swallowed the entire world around it, like a bad acid trip._

(Nathan! Nathan! NATHAN, WAKE UP!)

Nathan jumped, the sound of Wheatley panicking and heavily breathing in his mind.

(Wh-wh-...what did you do? What was that?)

[I don't know, you tell me. That was all you.]

(I...don't remember that. But that place...that was my lab, I think. where I spent all my time before they tossed me in the reject bin for a few years. Then they decided to tack me to a management rail and well...you know the rest. But...wait...that's in my data banks, still? Oh God, what else is in there?)

[I'm not too keen on finding out anything else about that besides who Mr. Power Drill is.]

(What else did I forget? Oh God, what if I keep forgetting things, like how Chell's slowly sliding out of my mind...I don't want to forget things...well, some things...actually most things would be great to forget...)

[Calm down, alright? I can handle this. Just...breathe.]

(I don't want to forget her...what she looks like and who she is...)

Nathan was amused; he honestly never pictured a construct being so terribly attached to a human.

(I owe her, alright? I owe her a lot. I owe her her freedom like I promised. It's the least I can do.)

A sudden twinge of realization struck him and he gasped.

(Oh God, the next chamber...)

[Hm?]

The elevator opened, and the sound of classical music filtering through the door filled their ears.

[...Is that...Bach's Little Prelude in C minor...being bastardized on a keyboard?]

(Oh no, she's playing that song...)

[You don't play Bach on a keyboard! Augh! Harpsichord, harpsichord, piano if necessary, but not a keyboard!]

"**I thought I would play you that lovely song you played for us when we were here. I didn't think morons could appreciate such quality music, but it seems I was wrong. So please do take the time to enjoy the music while you test."**

A wide open chamber with faith plates and tubes everywhere greeted them, a smashed monitor to the right near the start of the open pit.

"_Oh, sorrysorrysorry. Hope that, hope that didn't disturb you just then. It was the sound of books. Pages being turned. So that's just what I was doing. I was just reading, ah…books. So I'm not a moron."_

(Ah...so! Nathan, you're a human…)

[I am, last time I checked, yes. What about it?]

(...Do you think it's better to be feared or loved?)

Nathan laughed aloud, not bothering to stifle it despite the fact that she was obviously watching them even more carefully now.

[I knew you'd ask me that. Honestly. I'm not scanning your mind or anything. But to answer your question? I don't think I've ever been either. People look straight through me, not taking me seriously no matter how high I've ever ladder-climbed, and I've never had a really serious relationship of that magnitude with another human being in my life, so I'm really not sure how to answer.

In my opinion…it comes down to what you're comfortable with.

If you wish to be feared, you must take into account the inevitable fact that there will be people who either do not fear you or simply lack a comprehension of fear in general. Those who do not fear you could potentially respect your position as a tower of controlling fear and choose to let you continue on, but if they don't, they will seek to destroy you, usurp you, or just plain exile you.

If you wish to be loved, you have to take into account that it's a very give-and-take relationship; being feared may take a couple hangings in a public square, but love requires constant tokens of regard, lest those who love you find reasons to forget such feelings. If you do it right, people will find it hard to dislike you, but you could go broke fairly easily in the currency of your token-giving if you give too much.

Are you willing to be merciless and cruel to gain everything at risk of life, or are you willing to die penniless for a mutually beneficial, if less rewarding, existence? Whichever one you like more is your answer.

And I feel I should point out that he wrote that book as a scathing satire of the government that ruled his local area at the time. All his other books are quite the opposite; did you ever read those?]

(…I thought he only wrote one.)

[When we're out of here, I'm making a beeline to the nearest bookstore.]

(Oh, I look forward to that. More books! More, more, more! I want as many books as I can read in a lifetime!)

He laughed, imagining a literal mountain of books.

(But I…think I…I think I might have to get back to you on that response, if you don't mind.)

[It's not a true or false type of question, anyways. It's a matter of personal opinion.]

"**When I told you to take the time to enjoy the music, I didn't think you'd take it to mean 'stop testing and stand there listening'. Please, continue testing."**

(Ah! Just had a brainwave.)

[What?]

(Whichever one of us that isn't talking could just move and listen!)

[I've considered it, but that requires a great deal of back and forthing if we're to have a proper conversation.]

(We can try that in the elevator shaft. I say, right now, we can try just one of us giving a dissertation while the other moves.)

[Sounds reasonable.]

Nathan assumed control and quickly began solving the plate-and-funnel setup as Wheatley began ranting.

(I've been thinking...maybe I was a bit...laissez-faire...on purpose. That's a horrible thought to have...that I just didn't care enough. She was supposed to be my friend, Nathan, and I think that perhaps...I didn't care enough to really fight the devil to save her from it. ...What kind of creature am I to do that?)

As he waited for the block to traverse the funnel, Nathan responded.

[Fairly monstrous. But to be honest? I can count all the people I wouldn't just throw to the wolves on a single hand.]

Wheatley was stunned.

(...Are you serious?)

[Dead serious, pardon the pun.]

(That's...insanity. Pure insanity. I thought that humans possessed some sort of innate conscience.)

[Not every human does; why do you think there are serial killers?]

(So you're a serial killer, is what you're saying?)

[No...but I can understand why there are so many. It comes with the territory of being at the top; so many envious people, so many useless people...none of them worth your time.]

(I'm...I'm shocked. Appalled. I...I'm disturbed that I care about humans more than you do.)

[Oh, there are a few humans I care about. Just not many. There's no shame in not caring about most of them, I'm saying.]

(No, you're stating that most are fit to d-...you know what? I'm done. Please just finish the test yourself.)

Wheatley slowly slipped down to a lower state of consciousness while Nathan continued testing. Nathan sighed deeply and finished the test.

"**Enjoying the creations, or should I say, abominations, of the moron, Nathan?"**

Nathan looked around, unsure of what to do without getting shot and killed. He looked down through the glass area; there was no way he'd be able to pass by them to hit the trigger.

[Wheatley...little help here...]

Silence.

[We're going to die if you do not help me find a way around those turrets.]

A brief sigh escaped Wheatley before assuming control and wrenching Nathan's head towards the Hard Light Bridge.

(It's a solid beam of light that doubles as a blocking wall.)

Wheatley then shrunk back, leaving Nathan alone. He could feel the wheels turning quietly in the background layers of his conscious; Wheatley was truly deep in thought about his quandary, it seemed. He felt his body just going through the simple motions of summoning the cube and using this newfound mobile wall of light to guide everything to where it needed to go, including himself.

Once he snagged the cube and extended the floor in front of the turrets from the upper level bridge, he dashed down and dropped the cube on the Super Button, using the white panels to drop portals leading up to the back level.

As he walked to the elevator, he tried contacting Wheatley again.

[I...I know you're upset with me, and I'm sorry. I realize you're having some sort of moral dilemma, and that's perfectly healthy, considering what you've been through on your own with no capacity to consider such things before. And I know that I came off as a bit callous; I'm very rough around the edges and frankly, I probably should make the effort to not be such a misanthrope.]

His body stopped moving, frozen and stiff, just inches from the elevator door. Wheatley seemed to rise swiftly from his subconscious; no doubt he was the reason he was unable to move.

(You're a horrible person, and I've spent some time lying low, filtering through some memories of yours, in the hopes that I'd comprehend you. I only feel sorry for you; you're more pathetic than I am. I'm not sure why you felt it necessary to backstab that Henry fellow when he wanted to help you with us Cores...was it because you wanted to be a big shot without your boss around? And there were plenty of nice girls in the ranks who would talk to you, and you hurt them. Purposely. And your mum and Sarah? Why would you revile them? They needed you!)

[Wheatley, please stop.]

(And Girard. I...I couldn't bare to see whatever it was you did to him. And Richard. And Craig. You feel such remorse for them, but whatever you did, was it really the right thing to do? You were alone and afraid and angry for only the briefest times, but they are the most painful memories and invoke the worst sensations, even when I was so dormant...)

[I saved them from her, Wheatley. I did it the only way I knew how because I cared about them!]

Wheatley seemed to stop as Nathan began causing tears to run down, despite Wheatley's full extension of control.

[She was going to test them, Wheatley...]

_Doug slipped out the door as Nathan opened the newsletter files that were exclusive to project managers. The list of employees selected to test within the next week was promptly displayed, and his heart fell into his shoes._

_The list three days from now started with them; "Morgenstern, Girard", "Desmond, Craig", "Livingston, Richard". He expected his own name on the list, but it was nowhere to be found. Nowhere._

_...Craig had been right. She had been playing with them, hadn't she? It was his fault..._

_He could feel nausea and misery settling in behind a burning rage, and he knew that only the last was easily quelled. He picked up the guest chair in his office and, with a loud shout, heaved it through the glass paneling._

_His legs gave and he collapsed to the floor, sobbing openly for the rest of the office - and subsequently that maniacal mechanical harpy - to see. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to curtail the loudness as he saw Doug look back at him, a brief glance of what looked like pity flashing in his eyes before he looked away._

_He didn't need his pity..._

Nathan found himself in the same position he had been in in the memory he had projected, now sobbing as heavy as he had been.

[I did what I had to do to save them from her...it wasn't the best course of action, but it was the only way I could think to do it. I cared about them, alright? I resented my own family for always having to depend upon me for everything, and yes, that's a horrible thing to feel. But I did care about my...my co-workers. They were the only people I ever felt anything for and she tried to take them away from me. I couldn't let her. And! And you admit that you don't even know how it is you feel about Chell, but I'm sure you understand how it is how I feel about them, and that's enough to say that you care. You may not have cared about her before, but you do now, alright? People can change if they feel they should, remember that...]

(I'm not really a person, Nathan. I'm just a Personal-)

[Yes, yes you are a person. They were all people, once. Now all confined in this hell hole, trapped. I couldn't save them...I failed to save them...]

Wheatley waited for him to continue, but he kept on sobbing. He felt better now that he had gotten that set of rogue line codes eradicated from the forefronts of his consciousness for the time being, but now Nathan was stressing out again. He had to calm him down...

(Nathan? Nathan, please, calm down...)

Nathan dropped the gun and curled up on the floor while sobbing harder, not paying attention to Wheatley. The AI sensed he was going to have to wait for Nathan to stop before he could ask him anything.

A speaker popped on in the elevator chamber.

"**Stop crying; the wound should not hurt that much. There's Science to do."**

Nathan heard her voice and began to calm down.

[I'll murder her. I'll murder her by hand like I should have years ago. I should have dismantled her while nobody was looking. Unscrewed a critical motherboard and left her to fry and sizzle. I worked my entire life to silence her and her madness, and I should have done it myself instead of pussy-footing around with Personality Cores.]

He paused for a moment, then spoke up again.

[No offense, Wheatley.]

(None taken. You're not in the best mood, and humans tend to say horrible things when they're not feeling well.)

He knew that scenario all too well. Which reminded him...

(Nathan...we should go now.)

Nathan sniffled and wiped his eyes.

[Sorry, you're right. No sense in crying.]

Nathan picked up the portal gun and shambled into the elevator, arriving at the next room near instantly.

A light clicked on in Wheatley's mind.

(This room's elevator is missing! It melted and all! We can escape and look for Chell once we finish it!)

[That's wonderful! Just stay calm and don't let her catch wind of the plan.]

Nathan walked in. There were numerous Discouragement Beam receptacles on the walls along with a Laser Field against the far wall dividing up the path for an Unstationary Scaffold, and the once bottomless pit had been replaced with an acid pit, which made Wheatley scoff.

(Oh, I see...stealing my ideas now. If I knew the commands required to have filled the acid moats I would have! Cheeky...)

Nathan began observing the Discouragement Beam and then the receptacles on the far wall.

(Top receptacle is for the Laser Field, bottom is for the Scaffolding. One near the door is...well, for the door. Button on the far side drops a Pivot Cube.)

[Okay, I got it. You...you just relax. Think about something calming.]

(Hm...)

Nathan began running and testing out what needed to be done while Wheatley rambled.

(The outside world...oh lovely wheat fields...ooh! Chell not killing me...maybe accepting my apology...maybe a nice warm embrace that...I could actually return this time around...)

Wheatley sighed wistfully.

(If only...)

[How about you think of kittens? Or puppies? Or even duc-...okay, not them...how about mice? Do you like little mice?]

(Oh, I love mice!)

A warm fuzzy feeling filled Nathan's body, and Nathan reveled in the sudden joy provided by Wheatley as he continued solving the chamber.

(They would have them all in little cages and they would run tests on them, and although some of them became ill and died, I remember watching one of the interns accidentally letting a bunch out and they were amazing! Oh, they didn't find all of them, but they found enough to be happy about the whole ordeal. Oh! One climbed on top of me and looked me right in the optic and it was strange but I was wildly interested in it, as much as I think it was interested in me. I'd never seen one up close; did you know it has beady little eyes? Shame they look the little thing off when they did; I was actually starting to get used to it nestling up against the juncture between my internal port and the management rail...)

Nathan finished the test and quickly made it to the door. Wheatley's cheery story entertaining him. He was a terribly good storyteller and did well to distract himself as well...

Wheatley stopped Nathan's legs as the doors opened and revealed a shock.

An Emancipation Grill. Stairs. An elevator.

(Oh, bloody wonderful. Freedom's been clipped.)

A deep, sick feeling in Nathan's stomach bothered both of them.

[...We'll find a way out of here. GLaDOS may feel like a god, but she is not.]

(No need to preach to the choir.)

[So...let's just play around for a little longer.]

(Fine.)

Wheatley let him walk to the elevator, then stopped him again.

(...Would you mind if I asked you a question, a really important question?)

[Anything.]

(Okay.)

He moved Nathan into the elevator.

(Alright, so...ugh...)

Wheatley scratched the back of Nathan's neck nervously.

(Well, I might be getting hung up on the technical, but...you were arguing with me earlier that...that I was a person, when I said I was a Personality Core. ...What did you mean by that?)

Nathan bit his lip.

[I meant what I said.]

(...Nathan, please, don't hold back on me. You know everything about me, please don't. I've been terrified and worried about all these little tiny new things I've been feeling and thoughts I've been having and frankly? If there is any logical explanation to anything that's missing in my head...that thing that was painful to remember...if there are more things like that buried in my head...I want to know. I want to know everything, and you know it.)

[Digging deeper into things never gives anyone anything they want to have.]

(Nathan, I could pry it out of you, but I respect you enough to not do so. You created me, and you're the only human around that I can talk to so...please. Tell me.)

[It's...not important.]

(Nathan...Nathan please...there's a huge gap in my memory and if you're holding something back that would fill it, I won't forgive you.)

[It's done and over with, it's not important. You're you, right? Isn't that important enough to you?]

(TELL ME NATHAN. TELL ME EVERYTHING.)

Nathan sharply exhaled.

[I designed all of the different Core models that were meant to be attached to GLaDOS's chassis. We all agreed that, while it wasn't the most moral thing, that the method to which GLaDOS had been based upon - the Genetic Lifeform format - was the optimal format to create all the AI's. The Mark I's had been comprised of the wavelengths of test subjects who were too physically unfit to handle most of the more rigorous tests at the time, but they proved to be too mentally fragile from the process. I redesigned the system with my team so that the Mark II's would retain personas better and provide a more stable system...but apparently they were easier to tamper with.]

Nathan's body went coldly numb; Wheatley was becoming horrified.

(...My personality construct was once in a human's brain before? I was shoved into this machine?)

He paused.

(Oh god...I'm him, aren't I? I'm that little blonde one; no wonder his voice sounds so familiar to me, it's my actual voice, isn't it? You...you tried to save him by shoving him into me! You...you...you...augh!)

[No. You're not Girard.]

(...Wait...I'm not?)

[No. You're me.]

An empty stillness from Wheatley was barely what Nathan wanted.

(...No. No, I don't believe you.)

[Why do you think I trust you? That I will not betray you? Why I care about you enough to co-exist with you? Why I'm trying my best to get along with you? Because I am you, and vice-versa. Why do you think I gifted you with my voice? I wanted people to know it was me in there.]

(There's no way I came from such a despicable human.)

[Well, you're just as despicable as I am, Wheatley. Welcome home from that failed little metal escape pod I attempted to leave the madness of this place in. Everything was a complete disaster, and I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you, but-]

(...It's not fair...)

[...What?]

(I was hoping that maybe I was the little one; I could have explained to Chell that it was just a bad body mix-up.)

Nathan chuckled.

[Well, too bad. You're the gawky, rail-thin and spindly old despicable me. Get over it before she gets us down to the next chamber. Which reminds me, we've been moving for a while...where are we going?]


	8. Victims of Science I

Victims of Science I

[FACT: Testing on live human subjects in the name of Science has been documented as far back as the 18th century, but it wasn't until the USA's Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906 that the beginnings of safety regulations for such tests were founded within the country, and the last set of regulations in the United States wasn't adopted until 1991.]

(Wherever we're going, you've got the time to answer my question now. Tell me about him, Girard. He obviously means much to you, and by extension, apparently me. So, why is his voice so familiar if I honestly can't remember a bloody thing about ever…being you.)

Nathan sighed.

[He was…a very interesting intern I hired; I needed someone with charisma as a smokescreen for my project; I knew if GLaDOS learned about it, she'd try to kill us all. I was, sadly, only partially correct in my assumption. It was Craig who was right; she probably knew the entire time. Girard only managed to keep our project hidden from everyone else but her.]

(Doesn't explain why I know his voice.)

[I've heard it sometimes in your memories, but it's not him. It doesn't seem like him. Then again, you don't seem to be anything like me...I...don't want to think about it.]

A moment of utter silence passed that seemed like forever.

[Though...you were in space?]

(Was for about a year. Left me a lot of time to think about things, it did. Very helpful; not too many voices to distract me most days. Never wanted to power down...)

[...Oh. So I wasn't hallucinating that vastness and the beauty, then.]

(It was a year-long bad dream to me...)

Wheatley's turn to sigh.

[...I don't like the fact that this elevator's taking so long. She's blocked out all the walls while we've descended, too. I'm not liking this.]

(Maybe she's dropping us to the bottom of the Intelligence Incinerator. Oh god, I don't want to go there again.)

Nathan's eyes narrowed.

[...Again?]

(I didn't try to get tossed down there, I swear!)

[Not you.]

(...Oh. Sorry. then.)

The speaker in the elevator clicked on.

"Well, you survived all of the prior courses, so congratulations. I was certain that the last course would kill you, but I was wrong. As a reward, I have decided to send you to a relaxation center. Enjoy."

[This isn't her.]

(Oh, she's up to something, alright.)

[Keep on guard.]

The elevator slowed down and quickly stopped, the doors shooting open. The black walls led to a wide open space ahead and Nathan shivered.

[I...this feels familiar.]

(You go, I'll keep a look out.)

[I, I don't...if this place is what I think it is...no, I won't.]

Nathan refused to move, but Wheatley's curiosity got the better of him and he pulled Nathan along down the long corridor. Nathan gasped as the room opened up to them; a wide ring of rooms about a mile and a half wide and several floors down, some offices lined with full-length glass panes as their front walls, some rooms marked with cautionary lab and engineering stickers. While most of the area looked pristine, a few of the office's glass panels looked smashed through and some gas masks lined the floor like totems.

They now both knew where they were; this was the Main Engineering Wing.

(She must have disposed of the bodies…)

"_Nate! Wait up! Can you read this announcement over and tell me how it looks?"_

Nathan looked behind him; a soft and ghostly silhouette of Girard was charging towards him, papers in hand fluttering about. It began to fade rapidly, disappearing completely as it came within mere inches of where he stood.

[I will not panic…I will not get upset…I will keep myself together…]

He began walking around, trying to avoid the areas he knew more of. He reached the second floor down and rounded a corner, examining one of the alcoves…

"_You know, my dad runs the funding department, and he could definitely use more…fresh, vibrant staff to help him allocate funds…I'd be happy to give you a little one-on-one interview and commendation..."_

_The sickeningly cheesy line was accompanied by a wink and met with a feminine giggle by its intended audience of a young woman fresh from the university._

_He reached out and snagged the offending male by the ear, dragging him along._

"_Back to work, Rick…"_

(I remember waking up in one of the workshops in here for the very first time…until the whole Bring Your Daughter To Work Day disaster, I primarily worked with everyone down here - couldn't do much but observe and wait for a new patch update on my software to be implemented, though - although I would cheer some of the employees up a bit. That much I can remember.)

[I worked here. My entire post-college life, swallowed by this place. Right from uni to here. Bloody mistake…]

(Well…you built me here! So, there's that…)

[After everything that's happened, I'm not sure that it counts as a positive, that.]

A sinking feeling in his stomach occurred, and Nathan felt slightly guilty.

[Not that building you was a mistake, but moreso the aftermath. If I'm honest, you would've been built anywhere at some point, to some extent, but this place is the only place you would have suffered in…]

He sighed.

[I'm just a barrel of bad plans.]

(I know the feeling; only just substitute 'barrel' with 'metal ball'.)

Wheatley laughed nervously.

[That's not a laughing matter to me.]

The third floor contained a vast library of technical manuals stretching three whole floors vertically.

"_Craig! I hope all those manuals are for the project."_

_A small pile of books fell off the top as he stopped walking, causing a chain reaction that shook all of the books the small bespeckled man wasn't gripping out of his hands._

"_I'm sorry…" He bent over to collect books alongside Craig. The first one he grabbed happened to be 'Firsts in Science and Technology'. "Studying, eh?"_

"_Well, boss, you said we all could make part of our project unique, and…and this is my plan."_

'_Guinness Book of World Records 1980', 'Baseball Statistics of the Greats', 'Know Your Greek Myths: Starter Edition'…_

"_I think I'll need to see this…to just validate your efforts."_

"_I'd be more than happy to show you, sir!"_

(Oh! My station! I want to show you!)

Wheatley gained control and began running in the opposite direction, back up towards the other side of the top floor.

[Wheatley, no! I don't want to go that way!]

Blazing back up to the first floor, he heard a crash and a scream.

_A crowd had started to stare from their spots from outside Nathan's office as Doug continued to walk away. It was a while before anyone approached, and the one who did was not anyone Nathan wanted to see._

"_I take it Doug rubbed you the wrong way again, Nathan?"_

_Henry knelt down to Nathan's eye level, a peculiar grin on his face._

"_Please go away."_

"_I'm not here to heckle you, Nathan. You know that. I'm just here as a concerned former boss and still, hopefully, liked colleague."_

_Nathan looked away._

"_I saw the bad news. Tough break."_

_Henry gave a frown; it felt sincere...enough._

"_Nathan, the offer is still on the table if you're not d-"_

"_Don't even finish that sentence. Don't you dare."_

"_Nathan..."_

"_I don't want your help."_

"_Don't be all full of pride like this. It's okay to ask me for help."_

"_I don't need anyone - especially you - coming in here showing fake sympathy just to weasel their way into my project. This has nothing to do with our last project, or me trying to act all tough around my former boss, or any of that nonsense. I just don't want you here, do you understand me?"_

_A disappointed look painted itself across Henry's face. "...I do now." He stood up and started to walk away. "Good luck, then."_

(Seems like a nice person...)

[I...I wish he would have stopped lording over me. I know you can easily get attached to that amazing, potential-filled someone you hired right out of college and...]

Nathan sighed.

[He was upset that I split away from his merry band of interns after our grand experiments with the Mark I undesirable-behavior-inhibiting cores failed. So I went and worked on the Mark II's on my own with my own team. He was always sneaking into my office...always sending people in on his behalf. Even after I had finished them, he had guards coming in every night to take them before I had properly calibrated them for testing.]

(So you'd fight them off.)

[I got too attached to my work, sorry to say.]

(That little blond bloke became your work.)

[...He did. It's my fault.]

(Shall we move on?)

Wheatley sounded desperate to Nathan; he understood that he was getting upset.

[Sure. Show me where you used to dock; maybe we'll find out what happened to you there.]

Walking slowly down the hallway, a room caught Nathan's eye; it was covered in graffiti, and the ventilation grate was torn out and discarded.

[Here first!]

Nathan dashed towards the room.

(What is this?)

[Doug? Doug!]

"_Let me in!" Nathan slammed his fist against the locked door, cursing his gloves for muting the sound of his fists more than the gas mask was muting the sound of his voice. The door slid open cautiously as the gas closed in on him, and he nearly knocked the benevolent door opener over, as he plowed his way in._

_The gracious raven-haired occupant gave a rather unamused look as he closed the door behind the two of them._

"_Couldn't get to your desk fast enough, could you?" The man snipped. Nathan wasn't ready to admit that was the case; having gotten caught up his misery of another failed test run and nearly failing to hear the alarm go off entirely._

_As he caught his bearings and observed the room, he noticed that a few of the girls from the children's wing were in the corner, scribbling in notebooks with crayons and pencils._

"_I'm just pleased you didn't interrupt my experiment more than this neurotoxin did…" the man observed Nathan's name tag, and Nathan did well to do the same; "Rattmann, Douglas"._

_The name sounded familiar; Mr. Jameson, his boss, had mentioned him once or twice._

"_Spurling. Interning, huh? Don't touch anything."_

"_Yes sir. I apologize for…" Doug just walked off and picked up a large notebook, settling down on a table that was covered in colored pencils near the huddled mass of girls. "…interrupting…"_

_A silence fell over the room; everyone but Nathan was drawing or coloring in a calm manner, as if there wasn't a cloud of neurotoxin flooding the air around them. It was a surreal sight, being used to everyone floating about, all the noise and clutter and machinery. Not like Doug didn't have machines in the room, or things half-built, but the lack of actual action and visible, audible Science...was strange._

_He wandered over and observed what was going on; the girls all seemed to be drawing some strange depiction of the chaos outside, green clouds of neurotoxin and all. Doug himself appeared to be sketching something else entirely…upon first glance._

_Nathan leaned in closer to Doug's notebook, making the raven haired man give him a dirty look in response._

"_One of Henry's new kids, I take it...?"_

"_I am, actually." He kept his tone polite, restraining himself, hiding it under a strange sort of pride._

_Doug did not respond, and merely went back to his drawing._

"…_Mind if I query about your coloring party's purpose?"_

"_I do, but you are, and you're not leaving at any point in the near future, so I'll just answer you. I study these girls with various levels of various perceptional disabilities once a week."_

"_Oh, the proper maniacs, then. Lovely."_

_Doug looked thoroughly annoyed, and a hint of some other, deeper emotion danced around the backs of his eyes as he cleared his throat and continued. "They respond well to art therapy, so I've built a series of tests wherein the group draws the things they can sense and translate it into art. I then collect their drawings and compare them. Are you going to ask about anything else? Because if not, then you can go sit on the opposite side of the room, please. The 'proper maniacs', as you so politely referred to them, are off their medications for the day and they don't need an intern disrupting them."_

_Nathan silently moved away, huddling under a long station table._

Nathan stopped in the doorway, looking around. The room looked relatively preserved, save for the dozens of opened and empty bean cans littering the countertops and floors.

Graffiti of an unintelligble nature from afar, against the wall where the girls once sat drawing peacefully.

[Did he draw this?]

Nathan cautiously tip-toed around the cans littering the floor to edge over to the corner. The picture seemed to be some sort of chart or diagram, but the whole thing was messy and likely warped with decay.

[What is that...?]

He closed in and finally got a good look at what was drawn; it wasn't decayed, it was practically scribbled with paint in a jaunty, frantic manner.

He could make out a few things; images of what looked like people lying dead in the hallways outside and he shivered at the accuracy and detailings of the neurotoxin and the lack of detailing of the bodies. Shattered windows seemed to take more priority in the drawings than the people.

The clearest of the bunch of images was that of the portal gun being carried by a rather featureless test subject.

'Tenacity' was hastily scribbled on the wall near the image, though he barely managed to decode what it was. The jagged and disjointed manner of the style was distracting, but also terrifying.

[Did he get hit in the face with some neurotoxin before painting this...?]

(...Tenacity...)

_Tenacious, do not test!_

_The record on file became greatly obscured by the blinking red warning as he opened it. He closed out the warning's processors to actually try and read the files, but he let the warning system live. It was just doing its job, and he wasn't a monster like Her..._

(...Chell.)

[Hm?]

(Chell was labelled too tenacious to test. Do you think...?)

[...If anyone had a solution to the great enigma that is GLaDOS...I wouldn't be surprised if Doug was the one who had it. Bloody brilliant he was, even if his bedside manner was terrible.]

(Do you think he's alive?)

[Doubtful. Nobody's been here in a long while, if the dust layer's to be trusted, and it's doubtful that wherever he went through that busted vent would have led him outside or even somewhere safe.]

(How do you know?)

Wheatley stood Nathan's body up and walked over to the grateless air duct. He was tall enough to not require the file cabinet drawer that Doug had apparently needed to use to access it, and he set the portal gun down on the table behind him.

[Wait! What are you-]

(Trying to see if I can get in here.)

[Wheatley, wait-]

Wheatley quickly grabbed the sides of the walls and pulled himself up to the air duct. A creaking sound and minor constricting around his shoulder suggested that he might not get much farther, but he still continued.

[Wheatley, this isn't going to go well...]

~

The rectangular duct bellowed as Wheatley tried sliding in his broad shoulders into the rapidly-narrowing entry, giving a gentle push forwards. His arms tried to scrunch in farther than he was comfortable with and his shoulders were becoming more and more crunched into the metal, sending enough pain through him to make him reconsider his choice.

(Alright, alright...)

Wheatley pushed and grabbed, sliding Nathan's body out of the vent after about five minutes and quite an effort.

(This Doug fellow's fairly small-framed, ain't he?)

[Quite.]

Once his feet touched the ground, Nathan feverishly dusted himself off and straightened his hair out, then picked up the gun and headed towards the door.

(Well, I tried.)

[Indeed...]

(One moronic idea for old times' sake, then?)

[...Why would you want that? You're not moronic.]

Nathan looked in as he stopped in the door frame giving a parting glance into the office. He then spotted a familiar-looking book shuffled underneath a pile of papers.

[He didn't...]

He walked over and brushed the tattered papers aside, revealing Nathan's assumption: Rattmann had left his sketch book behind.

(Oh isn't that his? From the memory?)

[I'm terribly curious to see them...but I feel dirty in that it's his journal of sorts. You don't go rifling through dead people's journals.]

(Then why is that girl Anne's diary so famous? They read it after those soldiers killed her, right?)

[...Point taken.]

Nathan sat down on a desk and flipped gingerly through the aged pages.

Panoramic drawings of trees and wheat fields and blue skies seemed to make Wheatley giddy with excitement.

(Oh! That's the outside that I would see in my files! Oh, it's lovely all drawn up like that.)

[It's a lot better in person. Those look like apple trees, too. I'm sure the air is fragrant wherever this place is.]

(...apple...)

[Hm?]

(Oh. Nothing. Carry on.)

Sketches of non-descript people in lab coats shuffling around in the labs.

(Not good with the people drawing, is he?)

[I'm not that good at sketching people, either. Great at machine diagrams, though. Not everyone can draw everything.]

(Fair enough. I...can't draw at all.)

[You were a Personality Core that lacked arms and hands. I'd be more impressed if you could, if I'm honest.]

Passing through, he found sketches of the small group of girls that would sit in and draw, in various states of abstractness. At some points the picture seemed clear, other times, the figures became more obscure, the details seemingly unimportant so much as fantastical. A chill filled Nathan as he continued.

A few more pages in, Nathan stopped. The two-page image was that of a figure curled up in the shattered remains of a broken glass pane, hunched as if sobbing. An office in disarray behind the figure, and glass fragments scattered around in front of the figure. Scrawled in lovely calligraphy to the side in an empty space, a caption read "When Faith Met Fact".

Nathan slammed the book shut.

[If anyone's having a moronic moment, it's clearly me.]

(We should go.)

[We should.]

He sat the art journal down and went to get up, but Wheatley quickly seize control of his arm and picked the book back up.

(We should bring this along for any future elevator trips. I want to look at the scenery drawings again. They're really lovely.)

[We can raid the library for a book on panoramic shots. Now put that back.]

(No!)

Nathan stopped, then looked to his left as if to query an illusionary form of Wheatley who simply would not let go.

[...Why does this book mean so much to you? I don't value it so much, and I knew the guy.]

(Well...it's something of somebody else, y'know? What if he got out, and he misses this book?)

[Highly unlikely, but continue.]

(Well, maybe he will thank you for giving it back to him when we get out. And then Chell will think better of us, that is, if she hasn't killed us already, and then I'll feel better for having returned it. Everyone will be happy with everyone, see?)

Nathan pondered the comment, then sighed.

[Fine. But if it's too much to carry at some point, it's gone.]

(That's acceptable.)

He continued on and left to office with the book tucked under his left arm, and took to standing outside the office.

[Where to next? You're in charge.]

(Oh! It was to the right! Down this hallway on this floor! Or maybe it was a floor up...yes , it was a floor up. Okay! Here we go!)

Nathan's body jerked violently to the right as Wheatley assumed control and quickly began a sprint down the hallway.

(So! I want to know about that Henry gent while we're doing this run. I think I know enough about this Doug fellow for now, and I think Rick and Craig are alright, and Girard seems rather friendly, but Henry you don't like so much. Why?)

[Well...when I first applied here for an internship, Henry snatched me right out of the pile and began tutoring me. Bit full of himself and all his ambitions, but aren't all scientists? He hired me to do all the gruntwork, but I was a bit ambitious, too. I took his Personality Core concept and ran with it with that fire lit underneath my feet. Began drawing left and right, improving everything he did. Don't think he appreciated one of his interns doing that all the time.

Well, when his Morality Core failed to leash GLaDOS...I took it hard, too. Maybe I shouldn't have been so hard on myself, but I felt that I failed him; I drew the designs for it and everything. So we tried it again, with the human AI's. Again and again, failing failing failing, over and over and over again. They cut his funding, and then I stepped up with a new plan. An actual weapon to stop her, rather than just tacking on behavioral leashes. And I was promoted right on the spot.

I didn't accept his help for this project. I wanted, -no, needed- to prove myself, to myself, that I knew what I was doing. I was foolishly ambitious; I had become him. And I used the project to soothe the old wounds until that mechanical nightmare tore me quite a few new ones.

I'm not sure what he was up to after my project, but I saw him from time to time, poking about my project after I had left the lab, asking my team what I was up to. He wasn't authorized to know what I was doing. We were a top secret project! Nosy git. But I can't blame him. I shut him out all the time. Naturally one gets nosy when they know nothing of an amazing new project. I'd get like that with Doug...oh, that bothered him.

Doug was interesting. He always made me think about the projects I was on, try to think of why I was doing them. I thought he was annoying. But now I think all those times he played Devil's Advocate with me, he was just trying to point out the futility of it all. Only destroying her head-on with force has worked, hasn't it?]

Wheatley didn't respond; he merely stood in place outside of a lab, examining it.

[And look at me, gabbing along. I'm starting to sound like you, rambling on like this...]

(Do you really want to hope you are? Well, we're here.)

Nathan looked around in an attempt to gather where Wheatley had dragged him. Looking around, the vast amount of management rails that disappeared into the walls in every directions all led back to a small set of rails originating from behind the room's wall, through a top grate just large enough for Personality Cores if they tucked their handlebars in. He recalled only one room having such a fixture, and he dreaded to enter.

(...Is something wrong? Do you know this room?)

[I've been in here before, no need to go in!]

(But you wanted to have a look in! Come along!)

[But I told you I know where we are...!]

_The door opened widely, greeting him to the sight of several technicians looking over his blueprints as he carted in the freshly alloys _

"_Hey Spurling, is the alloy ready?"_

"_Where are the round molding outlines? I really don't have time; the freshly rolled alloy cools fast and it's a little unstable while hot!"_

"_Right here, Spurling!"_

_Pulling the long flatbed cart in behind him, he made his way over to the bench nearby, where a young woman with long blonde hair stood, holding the round mold outline he was looking for._

"_Thank you, luv. I'll take it from here. You can set it down if you'd like; don't need to hold it up for me..."_

_She gave him an odd look, then sat the mold outline down in front of him, stepping several steps away from him as he stopped._

"_You...don't have to call me that. Just Susan is fine."_

"_My apologies...ah, Susan."_

[So yes, I used to work here.]

(Oh, I understand. I apologize.)

[No need to.]

(That girl worked with you, who is she? You haven't talked about her before.)

[That was Susan. I, uh…worked with her as one of Henry's interns.]

Nathan scratched the back of his neck.

[She helped me out, and I handed the project over to her when I plugged my head into you and got put in cryosleep. Which makes me wonder…what happened in her tenure to result in you?]

(…I thought she looked familiar…you seem quite nervous about talking about her. You feel a little…oh.)

[Keeping calm, keeping calm…let's just take a look around since we're here…]

Nathan cleared his throat and set the art book down on a nearby workstation desk.

He looked around, memories flooding his mind as he did. People dashing around, half-built cores in hand; wires and cords connecting hunks of metal to machines; men and women in spark-proof laboratory equipment, safety goggles, gloves, all working with exposed electronics and machines of a standard spherical shape.

[I worked here for years for Henry, like I said before. I had to come back here a few times though...for other reasons...]

He eyed a workstation at the back of the room, near the wall.

"_I see you tricked my Code Specialist into entrusting you with a sneak peak at his piece of the project while I was off doing some R&D with the core shell alloys."_

_Nathan slapped the most unamused face and tone he could muster together as Henry turned around. The small magenta optic-bearing ball of wires and metal skeleton seemed to be looking at Nathan as he approached._

"_Oh Nathan, I wasn't trying to cause trouble. I just wanted to see how you've improved the schem-"_

"_With all due respect-" He wrested the ball of metal wires with a firm yet gentle tug from Henry's grip. "if you wanted schematics, you'd ask me for a blueprint copy. That I can get you, if that's what you wanted. But no, you want to know about the project, and you're not classified to know that."_

"_I see."_

"_But I suppose since you've gone this far…" Nathan quickly ran through ideas in his mind as he spoke slowly, rolling the delicate device over, inspecting it for fingerprints and dust. "I can at least divulge that we are mulling around the old experiment I had thought of back in the day with the AI's…"_

"_Personality modifiers?"_

"_Indeed. My Code Specialist and I thought it would be an excellent time during this Alpha run to try and make more complex personalities with quirks and flaws for a more personal touch. Gonna run it about, see how it goes. I can at least tell you the little details on how that goes."_

"_Well, I would like to hear about that! I apologize for shutting you down with that idea, but I guess you're running the show now and you get what you want, huh? Well, good luck with that."_

_How easily the lie slipped out as he started bothered Nathan slightly, but it kept Henry at bay amazingly well._

"_Good luck with your work as well. And please, do not interrupt my team again, or I will report you. You are not authorized to be in my lab in the first place. With all due respect, this project is classified."_

[Can't quite remember how many times, but it never was amusing. And he left so many fingerprints I had to buff off!]

Nathan spotted a console on the executive desk at the back wall and his eyes lit up.

[Oh! The desk! Let's see if I can get this old relic of a computer to work!]

He pressed a button and, much to his chagrin, nothing happened.

[Alright…what's the issue?]

He examined the device, and found that some wires had been severed on the floor from a fallen beam. He sighed.

[Okay…I can fix this…]

He slipped off his metal-lined Longfall boots and grabbed a pair of spare in-case-of-emergency rubber soles, securing them to his feet with scrap insulation cords. He then grabbed a pair of rubber gloves off a construction desk on the other side of the room and slipped them on, finding it hard to walk with the tractionless rubber soles.

[Gotta be careful…]

(Would you like me to move while you navigate?)

[You have a better grip of my legs than I do, apparently, so why not?]

(No problem!)

Wheatley quickly asserted control and gingerly found the best idle standing position while Nathan looked around.

[I need that large toolbag over there. It looks familiar…can't fathom why, though.]

Wheatley gauged his movement's new lack of traction and how to move around it, then slowly made his way to the toolbag. The bag, unlike others in the room, was rectangular and sealed with numerous locks around the edges, both leather and metallic in origin.

[Is that...?]

Wheatley picked up the bag.

[Open it, please.]

(...I'm not sure how. But I'll just manually override it! Hold on, I'm good at hacking!)

Wheatley set the bag down and leaned in, studying the locks and began slowly opening them by himself. Nathan's urge to tell him how to do it became completely superseded by his curiosity to see if Wheatley could actually succeed at unlocking every lock on his own.

(I told you, I'm good at hacking.)

He quickly undid the simple leather belt-type straps, then began figuring out all of the metal locks and undoing them one by one, finally leaving the bag open.

(Ha! Told you.)

He opened the bag, revealing a sealed rectangular lined sack full of tools and supplies, and a name tag, laminated and sealed inside on the inner leather paneling. The top flap of the sack was sewn and riveted to the top of the box, and one of the hardest locks to open appeared to be the one to keep it locked.

[This is my workbag! Why is my workbag here? Who took it from my office! …Was it Susan...?]

Wheatley looked at the nametag. A rather serious and death glaring picture of Nathan was displayed, and the name "Spurling, Nathan" was typed out in standard Aperture Laboratories font, along with various other little details.

(Oh, it is! Well, how fortunate; we can use these tools to fix the machine, then use this to carry the book around in!)

[They took this out of my office! What else of mine is in here?]

He could feel Wheatley panicking from his anger, and he stopped. Taking a quick breather and sighing deeply, he sighed and dropped his head down.

[I'm sorry. Let's just repair the wires. There's electrical tape and some needle nose pliers in there; I can use those. And yes, we can carry the book in this; it's large enough. Now, grab the bag and walk over there to the beam.]

Wheatley did so as Nathan gabbed a bit.

[Modified the bag myself. Installed that waterproof and bulletproof box inside and riveted the leather back on. My bag's the most durable and longest lasting toolbag in this whole facility! Everything inside is completely safe from the outside world!]

(Amazing! Would you like to fix this, or shall I?)

[Oh no, I've got it. First I have to push this beam out of the way...]

(I can do that just fine.)

Wheatley grabbed the beam and lifted it up with a rough grunt, clamping his jaws shut and putting in a surprising amount of effort in pulling it away from the wires. After a few minutes, he moved the beam across the room and away from the wires, leaving them exposed and begging for repair.

[Great job, Wheatley. I've got this now, alright?]

(No problem. I'm feeling a little worn out from the strain anyways.)

[Just relax. I can handle this.]

A few quick tweaks with the pliers in hand, followed with a precision application of the tape, and power surged up to the computer.

[There we go!]

(You did it! What brilliant hacking skills you have! You're much better than me, I'll admit.)

[Oh, don't admit anything. It was an easy fix. I'll have to show you all my little tricks someday when we're out of here.]

Nathan grinned and stood up, kicking off the soles and setting the gloves down on a workstation before walking over to the desk.

"Alright...work."

He pressed the power button and the machine lurched to life, a plume of dust shooting out of its exhaust ports.

(Ooh, dusty. Not a good sign.)

[I'll fix her up if she's still too choked up to run. I need to find out what happened here and I have nothing but time here, it seems.]

(Indeed. By the way, I am gauging that you are both tired and hungry; perhaps we should take out some of those candies to eat?)

[Good plan. Thank you for keeping a tab on my body.]

(It's very much our body, right? So it's as much my responsibility as it is yours.)

[Right.]

Nathan sighed as the loading screen dropped, revealing a login page.

_**Good morning, h_james! You last login time was [ERROR: FILE CORRUPTED. CONTACT SYSTEMS ADMINISTRATOR.]**_

[Henry was on this last...? What the...?]

_**Please enter password to continue.**_

[Bloody...augh.]

(Let me hack it!)

[No, I've got this one...]

Nathan sighed. "Think...think..."

Nathan bounced his bare foot against the floor, trying to ponder the password.

[...Well, I have one idea, but I'll be bloody dumbstruck if he actually used it...]

(Oh? Have a little hacker tool, do ya?)

[No...but I remember having to log him in years and years ago while he was preoccupied. He may still have used the same password even though we're supposed to change them...he's not a man who changes much...]

Nathan cracked his knuckles and looked down. The keyboard was covered in dust.

[Bloody hell...]

(It's just dust...)

[...dirty...dirt...dust!]

He stood up and spotted a pair of mechanic's super grip gloves on a nearby workstation. He dashed over, slid them on, then dashed back.

(Feeling alright now, Nathan?)

[Quite. Not perfect, but better.]

(Good. So put that password in!)

Nathan looked down at the keyboard and gingerly pressed each button, still cautious about the amount of dust that had settled.

C-0-R-3-5.

Enter.

_**Welcome back! The time is currently: 11:43.**_

(Huh. What a simple password.)

[Idiot. Thankfully he never followed protocol when it came to passwords. So! Let's see what his personal settings has on here...]

The December 1987 "Girls of Aperture" calender image displayed on the desktop, and Wheatley perked up.

(Oh, hello! Didn't know there was a lady guarding the files...)

[Pig. Though expected. Had to pic the least classy of the women from the year...May was a lovely tart.]

(Oh? Strawberry or blueberry?)

Nathan coughed.

[Alright, files. Searching files...]

Nathan looked over the folder names.

"Projects," "Backups," "Graphic Images"...

[Oh look, a covert wank folder.]

(A what?)

[Nevermind.]

"Blueprints," "Main Folder," and "Recycle Bin."

[Okay, where to start first.]

(Start in order?)

[Of course. Thank you, Wheatley.]

(...That was a good idea?)

[One of many you'll have now that you're with me. Nobody will be muddling about in your programming ever again, my luv. Just relax and sit back.]

Accessing the Projects folder led to a surprisingly empty folder.

[Nothing doing? That's odd. Why weren't they working on anything in here if its up and running?]

(Maybe the broken beam shut down production?)

[It'd take more than a steel beam to sever the main computer's power to shut down operations.]

Nathan paused.

[...you telling me that you don't know what happened to everyone here?]

(I was confined to the Relaxation Chamber Wing after a few months. They told me I was a maintenance and surveillance worker, and that if I left the humans to die without supervision, I would die too. They told me a lot of things would kill me...)

The "Backups" folder contained dozens of subfolders, numbered in sequences from 00 to 02 and sub-numbered from 01 to 07 in some of the groups.

[Are these...? No.]

He selected 00-10, and inside lay thousands of small video files.

[...oh God...]

His hand shook as he scrolled down and selected a randomly numbered video file. He checked the speakers as the video began to load.

_A young boy of about four stood in the woods in traditional American hunting gear, staring up at the camera._

"_Dad, a deer!"_

_The child's hushed tone could barely contain all his excitement as the camera seemed to follow the direction which the child pointed. Past a wide field of foliage and trees stood a ten point buck, nibbling on a salt lick trap._

"_Get it, daddy!"_

_The camera saw a compound bow and a carbon steel tip arrow into view, and it aimed precisely above the head. The arrow was let loose, and it sailed through the air, catching the buck in the temple and dropping it like a leaf._

"_Good shot, daddy!" Sounds of the little boy clapping could be heard off-camera._

_Nathan hid in a nearby bush, keeping an eye on his baited trap, grinning. Three months of reinforcing the cheap chicken wire trap's flimsy frame with spare metal pole bits he could find, and designing the door mechanism by hand while taking care of Sarah was nearly impossible, but he had finally done it. The bait was set, and within an hour, a rabbit was on the scene._

"_Go...go..." Nathan softly whispered to himself._

_The rabbit hopped in and yanked on the carrot, signalling the door behind it to slam shut._

"_Yes!" Nathan popped out of the bushes and collected his trap, skipping home with a live rabbit in tow._

_Sarah was really going to hate him, but she certainly wouldn't complain around supper..._

He closed the file and went to another one down the line.

He found it interesting that there was no 03-00, but a 00(03)-0, but he found himself uninterested.

Nathan scrolled down to the 02s and shivered. He cautiously opened 02-01 and rifled through files, unsure of which ones he should open.

(Nathan...?)

[What?]

(What are these?)

[Videos.]

(Like home movie clips taken by humans?)

[Sort of.]

He selected a file more towards the bottom.

_Heavy breathing as the camera jostled about through a transport tube in the laboratory, overlooking the main lounge._

"_If they find her first, they'll just..."_

_He stopped at the sound of laughter coming from below, and looked._

_There Nathan sat, his-half-finished Personality Core alight and twitching on the table, some muttered talking, and her! She was laughing!_

"_Brilliant! Oh Mother Selene, he's got her!"_

_A relieved laugh as the view spun around and darted to a nearby elevator._

"_Dammit, Nate, you did it again! I could fucking kiss you right now, I'm so relieved! She's gonna be okay, she's gonna be okay..."_

Nathan closed the file, an awkward shiver running up his spine.

(Who was that girl?)

[Dunno, just a kid that liked roaming around, Girard told me.]

(Ah, adventurous.)

He selected another file, feeling curious as he approached the near bottom.

"_Hey there!"_

The voice sounded strange through a filter, even though Wheatley immediately recognized it.

(Oh, that little star nutter! That's him? I can't believe it.)

"_Hey there, Mr. Fourth Core!" _

_A handlebar waggled in and out of view as the bright blue optic slowly became revealed from behind a pair of optic guards, opened slowly as if tired or groggy._

(Oh! That's me, isn't it?)

[It is!]

(...I...I don't remember this.)

[You don't remember much.]

"_...Nate?"_

_The bright blue inner core tiredly slid over to look at the camera._

"_Oh, hello." The voice was warm and familiar, as it was Nathan's. Even if it was filtered and processed through a voicebox, but it was clearly his._

"_Nathan...what are you doing in there?" The core flailed violently in its core shell, flailing handlebars and its inner optic. "Nate!"_

"_...I wasn't going to let her have me either. But at least I'm here with you..."_

_It stopped flailing and focused. _

"_I've been wondering where they took you all to. We're all together again, like one big happy family...right?"_

_The optic shield on the viewing core fluttered, as if it was about to cry._

"_Yeah. Big dysfunctional family again."_

[Alright...this is what I want.]

He backed out, wiping latent fluids from his eyes and sniffling as he selected folder 02-04.

Many of the files looked like copies upon copies, much like what had started to occur in 02-01's folder.

He picked the last file that was not doubled up and played it.

"_Good morning, Susan!"_

"_Good morning, Intelligence Dampening Core. I'm afraid we really don't have time for idle chatter this morning; I'd just like to see how those current added dampeners are feeling."_

"_I think someone welded one in funny; it hurts a bit."_

"_Interesting."_

_The sound of a power drill being fired up at one of the other stations caught his attention, but what was happening was far out of his range of sight; he was near bolted to the table, connected by a series of wires and power cords._

"_Are you concerned with what's going on? Don't be. I have a very special helper to assist me today; they should be in soon."_

"_Hi Nate!" A cheery voice to his left called out._

"_Hello!" He called back. "Haha, sorry. Just a morning routine we've worked out."_

"_Lovely."_

_The door shut, and in walked a familiar figure with several technicians at his sides._

"_Ah, here he is." Susan smiled._

"_Susan...?"_

"_I'm Dr. Powell, remember? Maybe they did solder in that last chip at a bad angle." She turned to greet the incoming group._ _"Ah, Mr. Jameson, welcome back."_

"_Thank you, Dr. Powell."_

"_What's going on here?" The optic fluttered between Susan and the head of the group._

_Henry eyed the core and raised an eyebrow._

"_You working on this one?"_

"_You can take a look at it. Just following a few left in provisions from the previous administrator...this one's set to try and add numerous inane subroutines into GLaDOS's processes to distract it from setting off the neurotoxin emitters." Susan gave a smile._

"_You're barred from this project, Henry, and you know that. I've got papers and everything."_

"_This one's quite venomous, don't you think? Didn't our attempts to attach a screaming lunatic to the GLaDOS chassis fail the last time?"_

"_It did."_

"_I'm not a lunatic. I just know what I've gone through to keep this man from destroying my project."_

_The core glared intensely._

"_Your project...? Oh, so you don't just sound like that little moron, but you are that little moron."_

"_I'm not a moron!"_

"_But you are supposed to be some sort of Idiot Core..."_

"_Intelligence Dampening Core."_

"_Not a moron."_

"_Of course. So Nathan, tell me, how did those personality modifications go on the other cores? I can tell you certainly didn't retrofit a new one onto you yet."_

"_Nate...what is he talking about?"_

_Henry looked over. "Oh, is that your little intern in the little yellow ball? How precious, keeping the whole team together like that. Shame you haven't always felt that way."_

"_Susan...please get him out of here."_

"_You know...I'm actually quite curious to know how that experiment would go. Since you're all here."_

"_Hey...hey, hey, hey, get that drill thing away from me..." Girard's voice sounded panicky from across the room._

"_Hey, back away from him over there!"_

_Henry picked up a drill as Susan stepped back, looking worried._

"_I know you were lying to me about it, but would you like to? For Science? You know, I liked you better when you spent all that time stupidly laughing about mindless little things...when you listened to your superiors and whatnot."_

_The drill in his hand hissed as it sprung to life._

"_Let'im go! I command you to!"_

"_Hey! Hey! Lady, back off!" A female tech squealed as the sound of metal roughly smacking flesh filled the air._

"_Sir...he's still powered on...you'll shock yourself if you're not wearing the proper gloves..."_

"_Ahhhhh! STOP! That hurts!"_

"_I'm still in charge! I order you to stop!"_

_Henry grinned. "No you're not. She is. And what does Dr. Powell say about this?"_

_They all seemed to look back at her, and she looked like a cornered deer. "It's for Science."_

"_Nooooo! Stop! Stop!"_

_Handlebars flailed as a hand reached behind and out of view, severing the camera's line._

[THAT BLOODY IGNORANT BLOWHARD!]

A boiling rage overtook Nathan, and he shot up out of the chair and grabbed the edges of the desk in an effort to tip it over. As he bent over to fling it, he stopped.

Everything seemed to stop, and movement seemed completely out of the question.

[...huh?]

"Why aren't you moving? Is it my fault?"

Nathan forced himself to look up ever so slowly, his neck resisting every inch of movement. As if manifested from thin air, a male figure sat perched in a rather uncomfortable position on the table next to the console.

The figure sat dressed in a ripped, torn, and burnt silver coat with black sleeves, collar popped, a pair of matching silver dress slacks in the same condition, and a thin black turtleneck.

His hair was cut and styled in a short and wild manner, displaying shades of navy, aqua, and turquoise; his porcelain skin looked even paler contrasted against it.

"Are you alright, Nathan? Are you hurt? Can I help you? Could you help me too? Why are the lights off? Where are we?"

The questions seemed to flow out of his mouth faster, and Nathan forced himself to let go of the desk and examine this suddenly appearing man.

"…Wheatley?"

"Is that my name, Wheatley? Why am I here? Why are you here?"

Nathan walked around to look him in the face; it was his own face staring back at him, framed with flickering and pupil-less amber eyes, like LCDs with a faulty battery.

"Are we in a lab? Why aren't you in a lab coat, then?"

"Wheatley...hello...?"

Nathan bent down and waved his hand in front of Wheatley's face, trying to get a response.

Wheatley groaned, the yellowish hue in his eyes rapidly changing to a bright blue. Black lines crawled across the left sides of his face and across his left hand, slicing it open and exposing a deep void beneath. Flickers of light that had once been the skin fluttered off into the aether, leaving the wounds to give off a soft blue glow themselves.

"Can you really see me?" His voice sounded terribly filtered, like a shorting out voice box. "Am I that sort of real to you? I'm just an illusion."

"You seem to be here."

"Then maybe...maybe I've..." Wheatley looked as if he were crying, but nothing resembling tears appeared. "I'm sorry...I didn't want to disappoint you..."

"What?"

Wheatley looked down, but Nathan grabbed his head and looked him in the eyes.

"Oh, you're actually grabbing my face. This's bloody awkward. You know that I'm just a figment of your imagination, right?"

"You're not disappointing me." Nathan smiled warmly. "Now, what's this?"

Wheatley looked at the creeping black lines that now graced the bridge of his nose.

"I...She was right about me...being all corrupted. I've been trying to hold myself together but...look, if you're talking to imaginary people, it's not a good sign that I'm holding together well."

"So you're babbling."

"It's not that I want to...but I...lose grip...and..."

His eyes flickered back to their amber hue, and the lines began to arc out, diving down his jawline and through his left cheek.

"Are you alright? Are we going to leave soon?"

Nathan let go of Wheatley's head and took a step back; the head went limp, as did most of the body, the only thing holding it upright was a fortunate and very supportive structure. He continued to babble endless questions as Nathan sat down in front of him, worried.

"...Wheatley..."

He placed a hand against his head, feeling nothing in the effort as his body grew more and more numb.

Wheatley's eyes flickered blue and there was a long pause.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean...to...hurt you...both..."

His eyes finally flickered off, and Nathan found himself falling backwards into what felt like a void of nothingness.


	9. A Legion Field

A Legion Field

[FACT: The Elysian Fields were home to deceased mortal relatives of gods and equally deceased heroes, and were oftentimes depicted as a vast field of grain and a land of plenty that could sustain its worthy denizens for all of eternity.]

"Nnnnnnnnngh~"

Wheatley groaned, his body thawing out slightly in the calm...breeze?

He sat up, grains of wheat greeting him by lightly tapping him in the face.

Was he having one of those…dreams…wherein he was in Nathan's body, now? It was surreal; the swaying breeze was cool, but gentle, like an air conditioning unit across the whole field.

A boundless blue sky, blue like his inner optic light, held in place an intensely glowing light; was this that 'sun' that that core that used to be Girard loved to talk about, the 'Helios of our galaxy'?

He looked up at it, but the intensity burned into his eyes, and little dark blue and aquamarine wisps of hair trickled down around his eyes and towards his ears and tried to act like a flimsy set of optic guards

Holding an arm up, he found it cloaked in something foreign; not the faded blue jumpsuit sleeve, but a form-fit black glove, the material looking much like the soft and squishy man-made material that lined the middle of his handlebars.

Out of curiosity, he looked down the length of the appendage to find it ceased being covered in the black material where the elbow joint met. Looking down, he noticed a torn and ripped grey tunic-like cloth was also draped over him, stretching down to midway down his thighs. Through the tears, he could see a bright bluish hue of a form-fitting material that continued all the way down his body, from the looks of fabric became lost underneath roughed-up looking black leather boots. Little bits of tattered material stuck out, making them look even more like rubbish mock-ups of his handlebars.

Curious as to how realistic everything was, he got up to his feet and looked around.

The world around him was wide, but divided. To the near left of him and far beyond was a wide sprawling field of wasteland, marred by quake lines and faults and rough, mountainous terrains with no real sign of life. A soft quake dismissed his belief that it was uninhabited once a feral hiss rang out from the sound of tumbling rocks, and he quickly turned to face the right side of the field.

To the right, the field extended, untouched by the snaking fences and harsh scenery. Up ahead, he could hear cheerful laughter, and the grains seemed to move differently than how the artificial wind was moving them.

He cautiously moved forwards towards the source.

As he approached, a somewhat familiar voice was speaking about something or other; it was too faint to make out, but he could tell that the voice was one he had heard before.

He moved closer, and a second voice was joining in; two figures were lying in the field, but he couldn't make out who they were from his distance. Their voices grew louder, and it was easy to figure out what they were saying.

"What is that...?"

"Those are little ants. They help the ground."

"Oh! Do they help the plants?"

"Yup."

"Like how you help me?"

"Yeah."

"How nice of them!"

A girlish giggle rose up, and two little legs kicked up into the air; white stockings and little black Mary Jane shoes adorned the legs and feet

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because you're a nice person."

"Do you like your sunflower chain that I made you?"

"I'm wearing it, aren't I?"

A male laugh as he caught full sight of the pair.

The male was clearly Girard wearing a daisy chain made of small sunflowers around his head, the petals drooping down over his warm brown eyes. However, he was wearing something different from his lab attire; it was rather casual looking, in fact.

Girard was dressed in a white teeshirt, with beautiful yellow illustrations of the Milky Way Galaxy seemingly painted onto it, as well as a black undershirt. Long and wide black jeans with many pockets and straps covered his lower half, nearly fully hiding a pair of white-and-gold-striped pair of running shoes.

The young woman with him wasn't recognizable, but she looked up at Wheatley and smiled as well. She wore a amber and vermilion sundress, with a straw sun hat with a wide brim and an amber ribbon. Her wide golden eyes did little to distract from the jarring image of the bandages wrapped around her head, fully covering her ears and twisted around her forehead, little patches of long blonde hair sticking out in random bits around her head.

"Who are you?" Her eyes darted immediately to his mouth as he opened it to speak.

"My name is Wheatley. Who are you?"

"My name is Curiosity. This is my friend Space." She gestured to Girard, who smiled warmly.

"I know you. We went to space together, remember?"

There was something unnerving about the statement the apparently fake Girard had made; hearing him speak of going into space with him…felt wrong.

"Do those cuts on your head hurt?" Curiosity asked Wheatley.

"My head…?" He held a hand up to his face; he could feel long and shallow gashes carved across a large portion of the left side of his face and throat, crossing slightly past his nose onto the right side. They didn't react to his touch in either a negative or positive manner, but the fact that they existed terrified him. "They look worse than they feel, if I'm honest."

"Well that's good; I'd hate for a friend to be in pain." Space grabbed the closer of Curiosity's two hands.

"Do you two know where we are?"

"We are in the Elysium; it's a paradise, isn't it?" Curiosity smiled as she spoke.

Wheatley looked around at the vast fields that seemed to go on forever ahead of him, deciding to not look back at the wastelands behind him.

"Everything besides what's behind me is rather lovely."

"Yeah, it's scary over there. There's a monster that lives there. Mr. Adventure said to never go over there." Curiosity perked up.

"There's others besides you?"

"Would you like to meet them?" Curiosity's eyes lit up with joy.

"If you wouldn't mind. Not that you two aren't a delight to talk to on your own…"

"I get ya. You're excited to be here and you wanna meet everybody." Space smiled. "Everybody's movin' about right now, so who knows who we'll run into!"

The two got up and grabbed his hands, leading him along as they ran northwest through the field.

"Do you think we'll hit the library first?" Curiosity asked Space.

"Maybe!"

"Or maybe we'll get to the hill!"

"That would be wonderful!"

A pair of figures appeared; both a good head and a half taller than the grains in the field.

"Hey, is that Mr. Adventure?" Curiosity asked Space.

"I think so!"

"So that means..." Her voice wavered and the two stopped running.

"It's okay, it's okay..." Space reassured her.

"Hey there, you two!" A southern drawl danced across the male voice calling out to them. The two male figures walked towards them, and upon spotting Wheatley, they seemed to flinch. "Hey, you dig that one out of the wastelands?"

A quick snap of metal, which sounded suspiciously of metal clasps coming undone, rang out and a throaty growl filled his ears as the hunched over male figure rushed forwards.

Covered from head to toe and now unbuckled safety harnesses, cloth bandage wrappings, and the remain of a straight jacket and white lounge pants, the beady red-eyed figure rushed forwards in a hunched over and predatory manner, its blood red claws outstretched out of the straight jacket's rounded sleeves, and its long red toenails and bony toes tearing the ground up beneath it.

"Hey. Hey! Get back here!" The sourthern voice called out.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH~!" Curiosity screeched, clutched her hat, yanked it down over her ears, and dashed back towards where the trio had come from.

"Wait! Curi!" Space let go of Wheatley and chased after her.

Wheatley wanted to run away, but he was frozen in place by fear. He could only flinch and give a terrified shout as the growling grew closer.

The charged running came close but promptly stopped, replaced with a softer set of step-taking. Growling became replaced with heavy breathing, and the figure drew closer.

Wheatley slowly relaxed his body and looked at the approaching figure. Its lidless red pupils were studying him, particularly his face and neck, making the semi-often and errant gurgle throaty huff.

"Oh hey, it's the china cabinet!" The southern voice called out, prompting Wheatley to turn his attention from the wrapped creature.

The rather tanned man in front of him stood tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a cream-colored long sleeved shirt, khaki jeans, tan leather boots, and a long and tasseled green and black scarf, embroidered in a scale design. A belt holster sat around his waist and contained a type of small gun that Wheatley did not recognize. His clear green eyes were looking Wheatley straight in his own eyes.

"Hooboy, you look roughed up. Didja come from out in the wastelands by yourself?"

"No...I mean...I don't think I was there...I woke up near the edge of it..."

"Oh man...hey, lucky you."

The bandaged creature opened its mouth, and a long black tongue snaked out, covered in a viscous clear fluid, and began running the tip delicately across the cuts in his face. Wheatley flinched back, giving a surprised shout.

"He's worried about ya, too. You got that thing under control?"

Wheatley self-consciously held his hand to his now fluid-covered face; it was a bit sticky and his hands had a hard time getting it off. "I'm fine, but thank you for the concern."

"Alright, good to hear it. By the way, name's Adventure, but I usually just go by Rick." He held a hand out to shake, and Wheatley happily took it. "This here's my partner Emotion. Seems he's taken a liking to ya; he's not like that with everybody, ya know. You must be special or something."

"Sure, special."

"Must be because you outwitted...Her." Emotion recoiled and whimpered at the utterance of the hesitantly spoken pronoun, and Rick quickly slid over to comfortingly stroke the top of Emotion's head. "It's okay, She's not here, She's not here. We're just talking about Her..."

Emotion gave a high-pitched yelp and hid behind Rick, clinging to him tightly with his long spindly arms. "Hey, hey now...calm down."

"I'm sorry to bring up...hurtful things." Wheatley bit his lip. "Rick, Emotion...my apologies."

"Oh, relax. He gets like this sometimes. He's just a little ball of...ha, well, emotions."

Emotion gave a cheery-sounding throaty hiss and reached his long tongue up to lick Rick's cheek. "Oh hey now, stop that. You're not funny." Wheatley could have sworn the next sound he heard Emotion giving was a laugh as Rick gave a sly smirk and softly swatted away the tendril-like appendage.

"Um...if you don't mind..." Wheatley cleared his throat.

Rick blinked and looked over at Wheatley. "Oh sorry, what?" Emotion snaked his tongue back in and stood completely upright for the first time, making himself tower over the already tall Rick.

"I...I don't know where we are or what I'm doing here and...if there's any luck, get back to where I was."

"Well, if Knowledge's what you're looking for, we should take him to the library, shouldn't we, Emotion?"

Emotion nodded yes while making a positive sounding gurgle. "Then let's get going!"

The two turned towards the northeast and began to run, and Wheatley rushed to follow them.

There seemed to be nothing upon the horizon at first glance, but as they continued on, the top of a building appeared; a large blue onion dome in the center of a large white marble building.

"We're nearly there! Biggest landmark this side of the wastelands!"

"That's a library?"

"Best library in the galaxy! In the universe, even!" Rick grinned.

As they approached, the sheer massiveness left Wheatley awestruck. Emotion, even at his towering height, looked small even next to the staircase railing, let alone an actual step alone.

"Man alive..." Wheatley's eyes opened widely as his eyes continued upwards reaching to the top of the onion dome.

"Hey there, pretty lady!" Rick called out, drawing Wheatley's attention to him, following the Adventure Core's eyes up the stairs. As Emotion gave a friendly gurgle he spotted the young woman in a long violet robe and a bobbed black hair cut, pale as a ghost with her mouth and neck wrapped up. Her violet eyes pierced Wheatley's inner circuitry, as if she were examining everything that he was made up of.

"Hey Morality, tell Fact and Knowledge we're here!" Rick called out.

She waved the trio in, and they ran up the long narrow staircase and through the two story high double doors.

"They must've been waiting for us up here." Rick grinned at Wheatley as they stepped through the hallway and into the main hall of the library.

Hundreds of thousands of rows of books, rising several stories high into the air, stood in front of the trio, and everything was in perfect order by subject and cover color.

Morality took a seat down at the black and white marble desk in front of them, then rang the little silver bell on the desktop.

"Coming!"

Wheatley recognized the voice has having belonged to Nathan's colleague Craig, but reminded himself that, like the others, it was likely only a facsimile of the actual person.

"You rang, Morality?" A short and stocky man in a white suit with magenta trim and large round-rimmed glasses appeared from one of the long bookshelf corridors. She gestured to the trio. "Oh, yes, Dampener Core. Come with me, will you? Intelligence has been waiting upstairs since he sensed your presence."

"I see." Wheatley walked slowly towards Fact, and both Emotion and Rick followed.

"Ah! You two must stay here." Fact commented.

"Aw, why?" Rick complained, tossing up his arms.

"Intelligence has not requested your presence at this time. Please feel free to stay inside, though. The wastelands have been creeping about with that devil diving about. Hate to see one of us get devoured and deleted on accident." Fact smiled. "Oh! Right!" He ran back down the hallway he had appeared from and returned with a library cart filled to the brim with many books of equal sizes yet different colors. "Come, Dampener Core, Intelligence doesn't like waiting and I know he's running out of books to read." He gave a soft grin.

Rick slyly walked over to the desk and waggled his eyebrow a bit. "Hey there, Morality. Need me to get you a book while Fact's off tending to Intelligence?"

Morality offered no response other than a glare.

"...Alright, sweet cheeks. Your call." Rick turned his back to her, facing the door out.

Wheatley shook his head as he entered a wide cylindrical tube alongside Fact and his book cart. He couldn't help but notice all the books were covered in tiny organized bumps where words would normally be.

"Hm..."

"Something interest you? Would you like a read for the travel upwards?"

"Not now, but thank you." Wheatley smiled politely as the doors closed.

The elevator they had stepped in began to rise, and what sounded like somber, smooth jazz piped in through a small speaker above them.

Wheatley couldn't be bothered to pay attention, as the inside of the elevator was a mirror polished metal surface, and he couldn't help but stare at himself and the focus of many peoples' attention: the scars. Ink black circuitry-like lines stretched across the left side of his face and petered off over the bridge of his nose, upper lip and chin, looking all the bit as terrifying painful as people made them out to be. If he had a potato sack or some sort of hood, he would have rather tried to block out the sight to keep from drawing any more attention. Although wearing a hood or potato sack on his head would likely cause more people to ask what was wrong, therefore negating the purpose of-

"We're here, Dampener Core. C'mon, before the door closes."

Wheatley blinked, and spotted Fact outside the elevator door, waiting for him. He quickly skittered out into the room ahead of them.

The wide, blue-domed ceiling was lined with little lights, forming constellations above them that, with Space's help over the last year, he could actually recognize. They were the only lights in the room, however, and the ambiance left it hard to make out much else.

Ahead of him sat stacks of books sitting in a ring around an indent in the floor that was filled with loads of squishy blue pillows. In the center sat a human figure with long, dark blue hair and bandaging around their eyes, wearing shiny blue clothes that looks suspiciously like winter-style pyjamas.

"Ah, Dampener Core. Come join me."

The voice sound light and delicate, yet distinctively masculine. It was slightly confusing to Wheatley, but he was certain that this was, in fact, Intelligence speaking to him.

"I brought you more books, Intelligence." Fact beamed.

"Thank you, Fact." A warm smile graced his face. "Just set them down."

Wheatley stepped around Fact and his book cart and sat down in front of Intelligence.

"Welcome. I've been waiting for you ever since I sensed your awakening here. You're here sooner than I thought."

Intelligence seemed to be staring at him through the cloth bandaging while he ran his hand across the bump-covered book cover.

"Oh, is this the '1001 Cake Recipes for the Modern Housewife' again? Must not have set that one down..." Intelligence nervously laughed as he set the book down and picked up another one. "Just forgot in my excitement. Are you comfortable?"

Wheatley wasn't up for idle chatter. "Where am I?"

"I knew you'd get right to the point." Intelligence's nervously concocted smile turned to a sly grin. "You are experiencing a malfunction-based hard reset, currently, and this is the only way the human mind you have been grafted back onto can cope with such an event. You should have been here sooner, to be honest, but we've been doing well to keep you afloat."

"...We?"

"Those panic-inducing moments when you feel yourself slipping into a white blankness, until just that moment when those lines of code belonging to one of us other cores slips through and acts as a bridge of consciousness just long enough for you to recover? The cores you're more familiar with, that you were built alongside with, have done well to keep you relatively in one piece, but ones like myself who simply were never programmed in the same fashion as yourself...we simply cannot do as good of a job. Poor Curiosity beat herself up over it earlier. I know I won't do much better myself if I have to, but I promise that I will try."

"What are you going on about?"

"Don't get frustrated. You'll only lend yourself to more damage."

Wheatley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking down. "I'm not frustrated. I just...is there any way to reverse the damage?"

"Not at all, I'm afraid. However, I am looking into ways of bypassing the inevitable."

"...Well, how do you plan to do it?"

"I'm not sure. You'd have to give me more time. In the meanwhile, try to relax. You're at your best when you surpass your electronic boundaries and focus on re-integrating with the human mind you were ripped out of. Shall we do a bit of that while you're here?"

"I'm still bloody confused."

"It happens a lot to people I talk to." Intelligence smirked, amused.

Downstairs, Rick whistled a short tune over and over, bouncing his leg impatiently as Emotion looked around the room and the bookshelves.

"So, Dimples, when're they gonna be done out there?" Rick asked Morality, looking back at her. Her glare hadn't yet disappeared from her face.

She reached up, and placed her hand over his mouth.

"Ooh, I get it." He grabbed her hand delicately, then removed it from his mouth before kissing the top of it and winking. She appeared to scowl as he walked around the desk and sat down atop it in front of her. "You want some real attention from a real core..."

The double doors suddenly slammed open, a frantic man in a blue argyle sweater and black dress slacks plowed through, heavily breathing.

"Hello?"

Rick turned around and grinned. "Howdy!" The man walked closer, and Rick immediately recognized the fact that, even though the man had dark auburn hair, he looked exactly like Wheatley.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be upstairs?"

"...Rick?"

"That's my name, Wheatley. We already did the whole intro-"

"You've seen Wheatley?"

"...You're not Wheatley?"

"No. Where's Wheatley?"

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Nathan. Nathan Spurling."

"Well hi there, Nathan. Wheatley's upstairs meeting with Intelligence. Miss Uppity here won't let you up there, though. You can stay here and chat with me, though." Rick gave him a wink.

"I already dealt with you, and no. I'd rather still be a popsicle." Nathan glared.

"Oh well, suit yourself. There's some chairs to sit in if you're bored and wanna read, I guess."

"Thanks." Nathan replied flatly.

As Nathan sauntered off angrily towards the lounge area, Rick hopped back on Morality's desk and faced her.

"It's so sad his pretty face's gonna get stuck in a sour puss like that..." Rick commented. "At least I'd be able to tell him and Wheatley apart, then."

Wheatley stood up, managing to keep his footing amongst all the fluffy silk pillows giving way under his feet.

"So I'm going to die an extremely painful death, is that it? I just have to lie back and wait for GLaDOS to torture me enough to just crack under the stress?"

"She is not the main problem."

Wheatley stood, stunned. "Pardon?"

"She is not your problem. You are your own problem."

"Hold on a tick, where do you come off saying that?"

"I mean no disrespect, but you and I both know the main cause of these corruption in your circuitry, and it is not old age. Machines of your sound construction, even with all the damage you've taken, should not be frittering away like you are."

"…If it's not from damage then…what is it?"

"You know what you are and what you're for, and it still hasn't sunk in, what exactly it is that's slowly killing you whenever you let your guard down?"

Wheatley felt a chill run through him, and he sat down as Fact quickly skittered out with the old stack of books in tow.

"That's impossible! It can't go after me! It's not programmed to!"

"The killswitch activated when all four of the Mark II cores were attached...which only ever happened once."

Wheatley went white.

"But...why me?"

"It was programmed to corrode the Chassis's main core, which had been, until, oh, about a day or so before that point, GLaDOS."

"So...that's it...?" Wheatley's legs wobbled out from under him, dropping his posterior back onto the pillows as he clutched his head. "That's just it. Brilliant."

"That little monster's just floating around every little thing it's touched now..."

Wheatley panicked. "Them too? No..."

"Oh, no, not them. They're fine. Just main operating devices. They're your backup dancers." Intelligence chuckled. "You, on the other hand..."

Wheatley curled up, clutching his head in agony as his body danced with little flames, waltzing across his skin. The pain spiked in intensity, and he shook and panted as his eyes went wide.

Intelligence closed his book and crawled forwards gingerly, lying a hand on Wheatley's shoulder. "Why don't we change topics to something you might enjoy." He gave a sly grin. Wheatley looked up at him. "Why don't we talk about Chell? You seem to be...perplexed about her."

Wheatley bit down and clenched his eyelids shut, trying to hone his focus away from the dancing flames; the harder he tried, the duller the pain felt until it was no more.

"...What of her?" He looked up at Intelligence with a begging look in his eyes.

"Where do you wish to start?"

Downstairs, the door shot open, and Curiosity's scream filled the quiet library. Morality flinched, and both Rick and Nathan rose from their spots to see what was the matter.

"Guys! Guys! It's spreading out into the fields!" Space shouted, slamming the doors shut behind him and locking them.

Morality glared at them, and both Rick and Nathan ran to their sides. Rick picked the frail young woman up, which made her stop screaming.

"You alright there, little lady? No cuts or bruises?"

"No sir. Just scared. Are we gonna be stuck in here?"

Space tugged on her skirt gently, drawing her attention. "We can stay in here until we know it's safe. It probably is safe outside just...we should be careful."

"What's going on?" Nathan asked.

"The wastelands are spreading again, it looks like. This place's sealed up tight, though. You lovebirds get in the lobby, c'mon." Rick began walking into the lobby as more chairs seemed to rise up from the floor, as well as a few couches.

"Thank you, Rick." Curiosity smiled.

"Oh! Sorry. How are you feeling, Wheatley? You're looking better." Space gave a warm grin to Nathan, who felt perplexed.

"I'm not Wheatley, mate."

"That's Nathan. See, his hair's a different color and his face doesn't look so trashed." Rick pointed to Nathan's face.

"You've all seen him? Where did he go?"

The elevator door opened, and Fact walked out into the lobby.

"Hey fruit cup, how's it going up there with them two?" Rick called out to Fact.

"Not sure. They began a very serious talk as I was beginning to leave."

"Hey Fact! The wastelands are getting closer!" Space called out.

"...They must not be going well, the talks..." Fact muttered as he ducked into a row of books.

"Hey...Nathan? Are you feeling alright?" Space asked. "You look a little pale. Are...are you sick, too?"

"Wheatley's ill?" Nathan queried.

"He looks a little roughed up, but I wouldn't say he's sick."

"No, Space is quite correct in his assumption." Fact called out faintly from the bookshelves. "It's more a sickness than an injury."

"...What?" Nathan gave a confused and worried look.

Nathan and Space just shrugged in unison as Curiosity curled up on a couch. Space got up and sat next to her, allowing her to rest her head on his lap while he ran his hand comfortingly across her back.

"We'll be okay in here."

Upstairs, Intelligence sat down slowly, not sure quite where he was in reference to where he always was. Once he was sitting comfortably on a pile of pillows, he began to speak.

"Well, tell me Wheatley, how you feel about her, in this frame of reference: 'Love is a long chain of chemical and biological reactions that are released when one's logic dictates that one simply must not exist without the presence of the stimuli.'"

"You make it sound so simple. It's not."

"No, but that is exactly how it occurs. Tell me, did you have these sorts of thoughts before; these concepts of love in the frame of reference that you have now?"

"...Not quite. I didn't really think about how I felt about her. I was more concerned with how she made me feel when I told her to make me feel something. When...it...ran everything for me and I just let it do so. I obviously didn't think much of her if I let it happen, could I have?"

"Do you think that these feelings you have begun to feel are primarily guilt and a need to absolve yourself to clear your conscience, or do you think that these feelings are romantic in nature?"

"...I don't know. I, I wasn't programmed to feel many feelings, but what I feel isn't, well...it isn't any of them that I know I have. I know I possess hatred, malice, envy, joy, pleasure, fear...but not what I feel when I think about how badly I need to find her to properly assess that she is both alive and in good health. I'm unsure if it has a word; plenty of emotions don't have names, you know!"

Intelligence sat silent, not responding.

"...Does that answer your question?"

"Processing..."

"Oh. Sorry, mate." He looked down and fiddled his fingers about, the sensation mildly amusing. He hadn't had many chances to actually examine and explore the human form he now possessed, and the concept that the small appendages were so mobile and versatile and dexterous was intriguing, at the very least.

"Final question before I make my verdict: why do you so vehemently defend a traditional notion when it comes to Nathan's semi-frequent carnal impulses to engage in a mating session? Love is the primary drawing point and the first step to such a session."

"I...I don't think of her in such terms. Perhaps because I...well, haven't been human before; well, not before, but that I can remember, and, well, I suppose I've been ill-equipped for such a, uh...session, as you put it. Or! Or, maybe I've read too many books. Not that...present company might consider...reading too many books to...be bad...but! But, I know that I admire her tenacity, her obvious intelligence and cleverness, and...and her generosity."

"Generosity?"

"Frankly, I wasn't too pleasant to be around with her, was I?"

"I would say your assessment is correct. However, those who are tenacious tend to tolerate a lack of pleasantries better than those who are not."

"I suppose. But she certainly didn't ever have to sleep with me by her side."

"Better to have you at arm's length in case something happened that required the both of you to leave the area immediately." 

"You know, you're not helping me figure things out!"

"Actually, I'm done with my query. I do think you possess mildly amorous notions in regards to her, and being within a human body that finds the subject of your amorousness to be an acceptable mating partner has only caused these feelings to enhance to the state they are in. The notions you have become translated through the human chemical and hormonal wirings as the human concept of love, and they react as such, leaving you with the appropriate physical response. I don't doubt that, if you found her and she reciprocated even your level of amorous feelings, you'd certainly attempt to engage in some level of a mating session."

"I won't force myself on her again!" He shouted, suddenly turning a shade lighter. "I mean...I won't force her to...I can't accept the notion of...pushing myself on her again, forcing her to make me to-"

"If she didn't accept your advances, you wouldn't have to engage. However, if she accepted, it wouldn't be you forcing anything on her. She would be entirely willing to oblige to your whims. Human females, particularly tenacious ones, are known to be very forthcoming with what makes them pleased and what doesn't." Intelligence nodded in agreement with his own statement, trying to add validity to it.

"...You're right. Still. I...I can't hurt her again. I've done enough to her, I think. I still want everything I can take, but I can't fathom taking like I've done. She was so miserable...I was no better than GLaDOS."

"There's no harm in taking if you give back equally."

"I'll never have to stop giving to make up for everything until now."

"Then don't. Simple as that."

Intelligence sighed, and grabbed Wheatley's arm. "I would like to go downstairs, please. Everyone else is down there, and we all need to talk as a group about the future."

"How can you tell that they're here?"

"I don't need to see people to sense their presence. So, come."

Wheatley got up from his spot and Intelligence grabbed his shoulder firmly. "Lead the way, Oh Fearless Leader."

"Fearless. Ha. I'm plenty fearful."

"You should be."

Downstairs, Nathan had taken to browsing the library and retrieving a copy of The Fountainhead, finding the waiting to be a bore. Rick had taken to following the not-quite-Wheatley lookalike around, trying to talk to him. Seeing that he was finally sitting down, he grinned and made his move.

"Hey Argyle, whatcha reading?"

"A book."

"Nice choice."

Nathan merely looked up, glaring.

"Ayn Rand...classy lady. Lots of book smarts about buildings and business and stuff." Seeing as how Nathan was clearly not enjoying his presence, he turned to the other available persons of interest in the room while resting atop the back of the lounge chair Nathan sat in. "Hey Bottles, you like Ayn Rand?"

"I prefer more traditional works, like the collection of Freud. Perhaps you should study him." Fact replied, making Nathan stifle a chuckle.

"Ain't he the guy who talks about...liking your mom and stuff?"

Fact began to answer, but a 'ding' from the elevator's arrival cut him off. Everyone drew their attention to the elevator doors, revealing a very somber Wheatley , Intelligence's comforting yet steady and needy hand on the Dampener Core's shoulder as they walked out.

"Hey Fritz, Silkie." Rick held up a hand, fingers half-heartedly held up in a loose greeting.

"Hello, Adventure." Intelligence replied, giving an equally loose manual greeting.

"Long time, no see. Still got the pillow party and the dim lighting upstairs?"

"Indeed. And yes, it's still comfortable."

Emotion, Fact, and Morality gathered to the spare chairs and couches as Intelligence and Wheatley approached the lounge area. Nathan closed his book as Rick took to the chair next to him, Emotion curling up at Rick's feet. Morality and Fact took a small couch together and crossed their legs away from each other, waiting for the oncoming meeting. Space and Curiosity perked up and seemed to be paying attention.

"Hello, Nathan." Wheatley coyly called out, giving a quaint wave.

"You're looking horrid, Wheatley. Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine...I believe."

"...Alright. Shall we get down to business, then?"

Intelligence gave Wheatley's shoulder a swift squeeze, and Wheatley nodded.

"So...um...hello. How is...everybody...?" Wheatley gave a weak grin with the left corner of his mouth nervously while fidgeting with his fingers. He was starting to both loathe the action for its connotations, but loved it for reminding him of how bendable and dexterous a human body could be.

"What's the situation, Fritz?" Rick chimed up.

"Well...all is alright...for now. Our main goal is...ugh...I think we should find Chell first...yes! Chell first. Chell is priority one. Absolutely, no questions. Okay?"

"I have to disagree." Intelligence replied, causing everyone to look over to him. "The most important thing is to ensure your survival. If you don't live long enough to find Chell, what is the point of looking for her?"

"Ah, point taken. Very good point." Wheatley nervously chuckled. "Alright, new plan, keep Nathan and I alive." He clapped his hands together, then realized something. "...How are you going to do that, actually?"

"We've been hacking into the Harpoon's streams and shutting them off every time it begins a payload spread." Fact calmly began. Nathan's eyes widened and he nearly leaped out of his chair.

"The Harpoon? Infecting Wheatley?" Nathan panicked.

"What do you think those marks on his face are? A tattoo? Not even Fritz's dumb enough to get a face tattoo!" Rick grinned.

"I'm fine right now. Don't worry, Nathan."

"How did that happen?"

"It happened while I was in GLaDOS's chassis. The other Mark IIs were strapped to her chassis, and it triggered my line code. I didn't know that's what had happened; I certainly would have spoken up if I was certain to the origin of my...little glitches here and there. And I would like to thank all of you for helping as much as you have."

"Well if you short out, we're all goners too; you and Nate are the only things keeping this place...here!" Space replied. "We wouldn't just sit around and have you get killed by that thing!"

"Yeah, me and Bottles here got ya back running in just a few minutes!" Rick held a balled-up fist out towards Fact and Fact quickly - and without much more than an aside glance to see what the Adventure Core was up to - reciprocated with his own fist, smacking the two fists together in a fraternal show of celebration.

"There is, however, an unforseen cost to our meddling in its affairs."

Wheatley turned pale. "Oh no...you're not infected too, are you?"

"Oh! No, no, we're fine. It hasn't infected us, luckily." Fact grinned.

"I'm not even clear on if it could infect us, Dampener." Intelligence interjected.

"What's damning in our efforts is, despite it not infecting us, it's still...scanning us. It knows which one of us is trying to stop it. And it locks us out if it knows us. Can't hack it even on a binary level once we initially shut it down." Fact's face looked grim.

"So...so how many of you...? How, how many are there left that haven't done so?" Wheatley nervously looked around the room at the others.

Emotion gurgled happily, and Intelligence grabbed his shoulder. The rest of the room stayed silent, and both Nathan and Wheatley grew pale.

"It is truly as horrifying as it's been made out to be, hasn't it?" Wheatley found his fidgeting hands and fingers clinging to each other in a white-knuckle terror. "It's really...I've let you down, Nathan. I'm sorry." His shoulders slumped as he looked down.

"It's not your fault, Wheatley. You've been doing your best." Nathan stood up and set his book in the chair before approaching him and embracing him. "All I can ask for is for all of you to do your best, after all." He let go of Wheatley and turned to look at everyone. "I had some hand in all of you in some way; whether it was your shell design, your functioning, or even giving all of myself into your creation." He looked back to Wheatley briefly and smiled warmly before looking back at the rest of the cores. "But I'm certain that if there's any one thing you have all inherited from me it is the will to ensure that I and anyone else who might be here will escape in one piece. So, I trust you will succeed." He gave a big grin and sat down at the seat that slid over next to Wheatley. "Alright, I'm getting long-winded. My apologies."

"Well, thank you for the rousing speech." Intelligence commented, clearing his throat. "However, the only way we can be of use to you is if you are actually conscious. So, I propose a trip to The Hill."

"The Hill?"

"Hey, can I go?" Rick grinned slyly, as Rick often did while he flirted.

"No, Nathan and Wheatley are to go as a pair. This is their personal trek."

"Aw man, I'm never allowed to go there!"

"It's because you'd spend the rest of eternity up there with her, just getting flat-out rejected without a care." Fact snipped.

"'Her'?" Wheatley's visage filled with a rare wave of glee.

"Yes, the Angel of The Hill," Intelligence replied. "she never attends our meetings. She's not like us. Her origin is quite unclear. She's got no real...anchor here, yet she exists. I am fairly certain in my assumption, though, that she exists here because of you."

"I see. And just what are we to do once we find her?" Nathan flashed a skeptical look.

"I have noticed errant pieces of her code here that look vaguely like boot commands. I believe that she'll be able to get you both back to the outside world. It's just a theory, though."

"Only one way to find out! Let's go, Nathan." Wheatley anxiously grabbed Nathan's arm and rocked it softly back and forth.

"Which direction should we be heading in?" Nathan queried.

"Northeast. Can't miss the acute incline once you round the building."

As Nathan and Wheatley began to leave, Intelligence cleared his throat. They turned to face him; he had taken to a nearby chair and was sitting down, his long indigo hair spread out and around like a long cloak.

"One last thing." He weakly smiled. "It's been a pleasure for us all to be here together, getting to really meet each other and get things straightened out. However, the price you two must pay to come here is far too steep. I can only hope this is the last time we meet here. Now, good luck. We will help you in every way we can."

The other cores stood and turned to face Nathan and Wheatley, silently gazing upon them as they walked out of the library and back out into the fields.

"Alright, around the building he said?" Wheatley asked, holding his hand against his brow to make a makeshift shade for better viewing. The sun was getting harsh, and the gentle breeze had stopped. He followed Nathan for a minute, then began to wander slightly.

Nathan hadn't replied to him after a minute or so, so he looked back. "Nat-...oh."

In the distance, a high peak stood, and something appeared to be resting atop it.

"There she is..." Nathan muttered, looking back at Wheatley. "Come, let's go chat her up, shall we?" He grabbed Wheatley's hand and raced forwards, towards the high incline.

"...Angels are men, aren't they? In all the classical books, they're men! How do you know it's a woman? How do you even know if that's an angel?"

"You can't see that wingspan from here?" 

"...No, sorry."

"You'll see it when he get closer, then!" Nathan charged faster through the field, nearly tripping Wheatley up.

As they reached the edge of the incline, a wave of anemia filled Wheatley, and he collapsed to the ground on his posterior.

"Why...did you...run so...fast...Nathan?" His breaths drew in shorter and more frequent. "I'm...so tired..."

Nathan sighed; Wheatley certainly seemed to be overtaxing himself as they had said. He grimaced and bent down, collecting Wheatley off the ground and draping him over his back.

"Lock your arms and legs, or you'll fall off." Nathan instructed.

"What...command line...is that...?"

Nathan sighed, then shifted Wheatley's arms and legs into more secure positions; his arms wrapped around Nathan's neck, and his legs wrapped around Nathan's waist.

"Now focus your energy into keeping your limbs just as such, alright?"

"Alright..." The tired Dampener Core sighed and laid his head down on Nathan's shoulder.

Nathan leaned forwards, putting most of Wheatley's weight against his back and began to step carefully up the incline.

The ground was solid beneath his feet, the grass departing from their trek and giving his dress shoes the much needed traction he needed. He felt Wheatley go limp against him; the tuckered-out core had fallen asleep, becoming dead weight.

"This isn't helping…" Nathan muttered.

A sharp breeze blew, fluttering the wings of the figure sitting atop the hill, sending a pair of loose feathers floating down past them in their own little swirling squalls.

"We're getting there…"

He wasn't listening, but Nathan was speaking to himself, trying to keep his spirits up with every step. Shallow, slow steps, they were, but he needed each one just as much as the next.

After what felt like forever, he came close to the peak. The figure heard them coming and spread their long white wings upon their back.

"Hello!" Nathan called out.

The figure didn't respond verbally; merely standing up to reveal more of theirself to Nathan. Long raven tresses danced lightly in the wind, unrestricted by hair ribbons and ties. A long orange stola clad the athletic female's frame, white tunica sleeves rolling down to her wrists.

The rough image of her seemed to smooth out as Nathan finally, and very tiredly, reached the summit of the hill, collapsing to the ground under Wheatley's weight.. She turned around, bending down to greet the duo.

Her general features looked slightly blurry, but her eyes seemed clear and burned into Nathan's memory near instantly. A faint aura seemed to radiate from her, subliming into the aether as if she were slowly evaporating. She was, however, very recognizable as looking very much like Chell; Nathan was certain that it was whom she was supposed to represent.

The Angel's quaint smile receded as she helped Nathan to his feet and slowly pried Wheatley away so as not to wake him. She stroked his head softly and carefully, brushing the hair from his eyes before draping him over her shoulder.

"We were told that...well, you know how to help Wheatley and I...return to consciousness."

The Angel nodded and gave a warm smile, fluttering her wings. They shimmered with an orange hue, and orange circuit lines seemed to draw themselves upon each and every feather in her wings.

"What...what are you up to?" Nathan took a step back as several feathers fell to the ground, spreading their circuitry to a point beneath her feet. As they all met, the lines snaked around into an oval frame. She suddenly flapped her wings and levitated off the ground, and the oval ring filled with an orange light. Nathan grew warm as a soft blue light radiated off of him in a similar fashion as the oval's light. As he inspected the sudden glow, The Angel smiled softly and gently rocked Wheatley awake.

"Mmrrr, ugh...wha..." Wheatley's eyes fluttered open as The Angel pulled him forwards and clutching his tunic shoulders. His eyes opened wide and his heart, beat faster to a point he believed would damage it. "...Chell...?"

She smiled, then dropped him to the ground, dead center in the orange oval ring.

"Chell!" As he sunk deep into the ring, he reached up as high as he could, trying to cling to any part of her. Not a piece of her could be clung to, and he was swallowed by the ring, transporting him to a world of blackness.


	10. Victims of Science II

Victims of Science II

[FACT: "Everything had gone black. For an instant, he was insane, a screaming animal. Yet he came out of the blackness clutching an idea. There was one and only one way to save himself. He must interpose another human being, the body of another human being, between himself and the rats." - _1984_]

Nathan's eyes shot open, and he began panting heavily. Looking around, he realized his body had collapsed behind the desk.

[...Wasn't I in front of the desk...?]

(No, you were here the entire time. I checked.)

[Wheatley! Oh, wonderful.]

(Hello.)

[...Are you alright?]

(Just...running a scan. Preoccupied.)

Nathan sat up slowly, moving the desk chair out of his way as he slowly got back up. His entire body was frigid stiff, and no part of it seemed to want to leave the floor, making what was a simple task in theory something he could barely summon the strength to accomplish.

(My apologies.)

[What are you apologizing for? Were you making my body lock up just then?]

(Well, it's a general apology. You wouldn't be on the floor if I hadn't had a freeze-up and a hard reset as I did.)

Nathan felt a twinge of suspicious behavior, but he bottled it.

[...Wheatley.]

(Yes?)

[How is that scan coming along?]

(Fine. No worries. Everything is under control. Just...do what you want to do.)

Oh, he wasn't _trying _to avoid the truth...he _was_. Nathan mentally scowled.

[Wheatley, every time you dodge me like this, you get all short circuited. What is the matter?]

(Nothing! Nothing. Please stop rattling me up.)

[Can I help you with something?]

(No. It's not something that can be just...fixed. But I'm fine. I'll give a holler if something's amiss.)

[Well, what if I can help you sense your problem? You don't know, do you?]

(I'm not disabled; I can handle my own problems.)

[...Wheatley.]

Nathan sighed deeply, looking around. Upon spotting a large pile of zip drive disks, a light bulb went off in his brain.

[Fine. You sulk and finish scanning. I have an idea.]

(What...?)

Nathan grabbed the pile and pulled it over, shoving the top disk into the still-operating console. After checking the disk and finding it was empty, he went back to the sub-folder containing all the core memory files and grabbed the first batch, dragging it to the empty disk's folder.

(What are you...?)

After it finished, he removed the disk and slipped in another one. A few unimportant memos. He deleted them then copied over the second file. He looked for a marker and began labelling the filled disks with the names of the subfolders they contained, setting them to the side as grabbed a third disk and checked it.

Empty as well. Not for long; he put the third memory subfolder onto it.

[Are all these disks blank...? That would be nothing short of a miracle right now...]

(You're...backing them all up?)

[They're coming with us. All of these people suffered because of the work I work we all did in this very room. They didn't get a proper send-off. When we get out, I'm putting them somewhere safe. Probably will bury them. They deserve a proper burial. They don't deserve to be popsicles.]

Nathan had turned red in the cheeks, his eyes becoming waterlogged.

(You humans and your need to ceremoniously honor the dead. Death has no need for dignity; you just carry on with your business.)

[Please don't. Not right now. Go back to scanning.]

Nathan wiped his eyes and sniffled up a stream of nasal fluids as he continued, going through all of the zip drives and fitting every memory sub-folder onto its own disk and labelling them. He then got out of the chair, collected up the disks, and placed them in his bag.

[I wonder if the technology of the outside world has improved past the point of zip drives, to where nobody has the ability to view these on the outside. We were above the top of the line in the 80's...but where are we now? I mean, we had laser-read disks, hard floppy squares with ribbons like these zip drives...I wonder what they're using for file storage. Maybe they're already downloading things straight into their minds using some advanced form of our Personality Core Genetic Profile Extractor! Oh, that would be interesting...]

(That's absurd, but plausible. Who knows how long you've been frozen? It's really seemed like an eternity for me rolling about as a core, and I would certainly give you a more accurate reading of the current date besides "more than a year since I almost blew up the facility" if I could access my core's clock function. Doubt it'd work in the condition I was in, but I'd at least try. Honestly, I had accessed the time right before I crashed back down into this facility, but I've completely forgotten what it was. Something in May or June...something. Gah. Sorry I'm not more helpful.)

[There's no need to overthink it. Just...let's go. I cannot stand being in this room any longer.]

(Let's.)

Nathan pulled his Longfall Boots back on, organizing his bag's contents before securing it and slinging it over his shoulder.

[Would you like to see my workstation?]

(Oh! Yes, please.)

[I'll take us there, then.]

The walk to Nathan's workstation was silent, Wheatley deep in thought and Nathan just making his way. As they made their way past Nathan's personal office, a shiver ran down his spine.

"_They're all on the list, Nate. I'm so sorry…"_

(Wait. What?)

Nathan stopped on a dime, a flicker of light to his left drawing his attention. Wheatley stood staring at him in confusion, now dressed in the suit jacket attire from the workshop, the extended scar lines from Elysium still stretched across his face.

"They?" Wheatley asked. "Not 'we'? That was Girard's voice, yes? They were on that list…but he's not talking about himself and your colleagues…is he?"

Nathan looked at the broken pane of glass of his office once more. "He's not."

"May I ask…who?"

Nathan closed his eyes and let the memory flicker alive as he opened them. Like life-sized pillars of hard light, the figures of Nathan and Girard shone and solidified, frozen in the middle of the memory.

Nathan shuddered, pained by the memory, but Wheatley wanted to know. He had to.

"_Nate, I saw the list. All our volunteers are on there. We're in trouble. Who are we-" Girard seemed more frantic now than he had ever been. His left leg bounced in a frantic antsy-ness as he rapidly spit out his terror-inducing information._

"_You did your best, Girard. Go to bed. Or at least take your medication. How long has it been since you took it?"_

"_At least since yesterday. I've been freaking out, skipped my morning dose, and said to hell with it with the rest of 'em today."_

"_Go to your dorm, take your medication, make yourself a pot of lavender or chamomile tea, and just relax. I'll handle everything."_

"_No! No, I have an idea! But…someplace more private? The workshop later?"_

"…_How much later?"_

"_I don't know. Uh…soon? I gotta get stuff together."_

"_What exactly is your plan?"_

"_Workstation…uh…thirty minutes? Yeah, that's enough time. No, no, wait. Gotta get a few other things. An hour. Hour's fine with you, right?"_

"_If you promise that getting in a dose of your medication is part of the itinerary; in fact, if it's not the first thing you do, I don't care what you have planned. You're a wreck."_

"_I'm a wreck? I didn't throw a chair through my office wall." Girard appeared to regret his words the second he said them, and gave a soft squeak of worry. "Sorry. Too late. No meds. No filter right now."_

"_Just…please. Calm yourself and we can talk about this in an hour in the workstation."_

_Girard swooped forward, catching Nathan in a tight and quick hug before running off towards the dormitory wing._

The images flickered and faded to nothing, leaving only Nathan and Wheatley standing there.

"What was his plan?"

Nathan looked down. "Remind me when we get to the workstation."

"I will. Shall we continue?"

"Please." Nathan, his whole body seemingly swallowed by a wave of emotional discomfort, began sauntering to the workstation.

Wheatley wished he could give Nathan a consoling embrace. When Girard gave him one, it always cheered him up…

"Nathan?"

"What?"

"You know you don't have to verbally communicate to me. In fact, it would be detrimental to do so, in the case of us trading sensitive information that may or may not be useful to...um, Her. I can still hear you if you think your responses."

[Still afraid to refer to her as GLaDOS?]

"First point, heard you perfectly. Secondly, not 'afraid' so much as...well, maybe afraid. No, more along the lines of...no, it's fear, but a rational fear. I am not just being terrified just to be terrified. Just a note."

Nathan sighed.

He stopped just short of the workstation; it looked much larger than Henry's workstation by the placement of the doors leading in and surrounding the room.

[Are you ready to see your real birth place?]

"I'm ecstatic. Please, let's not dawdle!"

Nathan smiled and opened the door.

Wheatley marveled at the sights; numerous pristine workstations with only the minutest layers of dust, tools lined up against walls in order, materials stacked in labelled crates, the floor devoid of papers and only suffering debris from whatever aftershock of the madness elsewhere had created, and a back room for resting, its door closed.

Nathan's eyes were focused at the main centerpiece of the room; the Personality Core Genetic Profile Extractor, and the twisted hunk of metal and wires that sat in the core cradle. As Wheatley took notice of the nauseated horror running through Nathan's body, he too found himself focusing on the machine.

"Is that...?"

[Oh God...]

His hands shook as he approached it, and only one thought seemed to cross Wheatley's mind.

"It's so...small...and insignificant..."

[My creation...]

"Was I only that big? The bloody cubes are larger than I was!"

[Look at what she did to you...]

Nathan reached out and gingerly picked up the wrecked core, ever so daintily moving it about to inspect it.

"Well, she did try to crush me with grabbing pincers, and she tossed me in some sort of fluid to short me out, but the hunk of rock in my back port is a meteor...I think...was it really that small? It felt like it was trying to split me in half!"

[The pinnacle of my entire professional career's work...nothing but a hunk of scrap metal with wires sticking out of it...]

"...This is a strange out of body experience for me...I wonder if I should recite that scene..."

[...What? What scene?]

Wheatley took momentary control and held the core out with his right hand, then cleared Nathan's throat and began to recite.

"Alas, poor Wheatley! I knew him, Nathan: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen?"

(I'm sorry, but it sounds so terribly awkward coming out your mouth, given the regional dialects being different and all.)

Nathan couldn't help but crack a smile at the hollow core shell as Wheatley shifted control, and a small spark of amusement filled him. Wheatley was trying to cheer him up.

The laughter that dared to strangle him if contained burst out into a body-shaking rattle of chuckles, making tears of joy, rather than sorrow, slide their way out from between his eyelids.

He was expecting Wheatley to query why he was laughing, to some extent, but Wheatley's quietness shook him a bit, and he too fell silent, setting the core back down into the cradle as softly as possible.

[Well...it's to be expected. You went through a lot before you made it back to me...]

Nathan sighed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and sniffling up fluids once more.

Nathan looked around, surveying the area. The thin layer of dust made it look as if the room had been sealed like a mausoleum. The eerie lack of background noise outside of the Longfall Boots clinking against the floor as he walked around, the general lack of people...it was starting to bother him.

The visual manifestation of Wheatley stepped in front of him, snapping him out of his reverie. He realized then that Wheatley looked near perfectly like himself; the only major difference being that Wheatley possessed blue hair that sat raggedly around his head with no particular style to it rather than his own dark auburn that he typically and meticulously combed to the right. Besides that and the circuit patterned scar lines, they could have passed for mirror images.

It only made sense; all the other cores seemed to physically resemble their human selves in Elysium, and Wheatley was, after all, just him.

"…Nathan?"

[Yes?]

"And please tell me if I am stepping on a taboo question..."

[Just ask.]

"Alright. What...what is death like? Not that I…have any real reason to ask or anything, I'm just asking out of curiosity. I know what it's like to be shut down with no idea when someone will turn you back on, but…well…is it like that with humans, too? Only, well, you know nobody's going to turn you back on. Because you're dead."

[Well, that's something I don't know. No human knows what is coming at the end. It could be nothing but a great abyss, or perhaps it could be similar to something humans have written about in just about every religious text. A big white staircase to heaven or a big drop into the fiery pits of hell after having your soul judged by the religion's diety or whatnot.

[The Greeks had this whole elaborate setup where the messenger god Hermes would drag a person's soul to the River Styx, and the ferryman of the river, Charon, who wears this spooky cloak and looks like a skeleton, would have you pay coins that your relatives would put on your body when they buried you to travel down to one of a couple of places; Elysium was like their heaven for good people and heroes and whatnot, Tartarus is like their hell for the wicked, and Asphodel is their place for the people who weren't much of either.

I'm not religious myself. If I were a betting man, I would place my chips on the abyss you speak about.]

"Those deity fellows don't sound all that friendly. I hope you're right. Well no, I take that back. That Charon fellow sounds like a nice chap; just give him some dosh your mates left on your corpse and he carts you down the river on his boat to where you're supposed to go. It's not like they tell you where you're going when you die, right? So how would you know if this bloke didn't take you?

"What if they were waiting for you in Elysium, and they were going to throw you a party, with cake and everything, and you went to Asphodel because you figured, 'Ah, I did some nasty things in my life like bossing around and torturing a girl for my own self-gratification, but I taught a horrible monster of a woman a simple, if apparently fleeting, lesson in humbleness via a tuber and some scrap electronics and I didn't kill anyone out of sheer ignorance! So they're probably putting me here in Asphodel, where the okay people go!' And then you get there and find out you have to sail all the way down to Elysium, so you go all the way there, only to find that everyone left after an hour and your fat cousin ate all the celebration cake.

That bloke sounds like a good mate. Shame he doesn't get medals for that. Did he get medals for it? Like some sort of 'Expert Soul Ferryman' badge?"

Nathan just stood in silence, stunned.

"Right then! This office! Very well-kept..."

While Wheatley's attention seemed to drift out and around the room, Nathan took to staring at the scrap heap that was once Wheatley's core. It was useless now; he couldn't gather any information from it if he tried. However...it could still be used...

"Huh? What...what are you thinking?"

Nathan picked up the core and looked it over; the dents, scrapes, and minor burns were mainly cosmetic with all the parts from inside having been either pulled out, snapped, or hanging out presently, the gears needed some replacing, and there was certainly something wrong with the upper handlebar, but he could fix all of it.

He took the core to a station and, upon noticing that he already had a pair of gloves on from earlier, began working immediately. There seemed to be only one thing that could be salvaged from the junk heap that sat in front of him; the optic light.

By this time, Wheatley had sauntered over, looking interested.

"What are you doing to m…my core?"

Nathan could sense Wheatley's nausea as he tore out burnt out circuit boards and wires. He scoffed at all the poorly soldered extraneous data loop chips and sub-par processors. He held the board up to Wheatley's face.

"Do you see all those extra crap-soldered pieces? That is what they did to you. All those little looping devices, endlessly circulating all those horrid ideas in your tiny little circuits, holding them in and slowing you down. You may not have had the greatest ideas, but they made sure you would never let them go. They made you pay for my indiscretions." He tossed the motherboard like a Frisbee down then length of the room. "Nothing but a useless hunk of technology. They destroyed you because they were angry and jealous morons."

Wheatley stared at the motherboard in horror; Nathan realized he had essentially, and very carelessly, chucked what had been his brain across the room.

[Sorry, Wheatley. Don't worry; this ball doesn't feel anything anymore. You're safe here in my head now, alright?]

"…Yes. I…can you please tell me what you are doing? Enlighten me a bit, mate."

Nathan smirked. What an appropriate choice of words.

[Your optic, its wiring, the optic guard mechanisms, and the rotating gyros are all either still working or can be repaired…I am going to hook it all up to a powerful battery and a switch and use this old core as a floodlight. It can't hurt; there are some places around here that are terribly dark.]

"Sounds like a wonderful plan!"

[I am glad you support it; it was going to be done whether you supported it or not.]

He looked around and began thinking of all the materials he would need. He assessed exactly which pieces were salvageable, then looked around for paper and a working pen.

It was nearly impossible to find either, but he managed after a while. He took to roughly sketching the blueprints of what needed to be collected and compiled, Wheatley staring in awe. He had never watched anyone construct anything with so little to work with; Nathan barely had enough ambient light to see what he was doing.

He wandered about, digging through piles of scrap in the workstation, looking through the list he'd scribbled down. After only finding a few things, he continued on, muttering aloud to himself as he searched.

"Does this light work...?"

He tapped the light switch, and a pair of light panels flickered on. It was barely enough light to illuminate the room, but Nathan found it satisfactory.

Spotting a cart in a corner, he grabbed it and ran out into the hallways, diving from workstation to workstation, digging around for scraps and parts and wires and materials and everything that he needed.

He dove back into his home workstation and pushed the cart to the table with the broken core sitting upon it. He began setting everything down in perfect precision according to what he needed in order of importance then suddenly stopped.

The utter silence around him was too distracting. He needed some ambiance.

He walked over to the station table with a carved-in depiction of the Milky Way and various constellations and opened up the top left drawer. Dozens of zip drive disks labeled 'mix tape' and various dates from the 1980's sat within. He pulled out the one that looked the most used and grabbed a zip drive-compatible audio device and headphones from the right bottom drawer, smiling.

Inserting the disk, he was happy to find the batteries still operated perfectly. He plugged the headphones in and played the first track as he searched the jumpsuit for another pocket.

"_Sometimes you're better off dead _

_There's gun in your hand and it's pointing at your head _

_You think you're mad, too unstable _

_Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables _

_In a restaurant in a West End town _

_Call the police, there's a madman around _

_Running down underground to a dive bar _

_In a West End town..."_

It wasn't his cup of tea, but it was soothing to his nerves as he began to work. He understood exactly why Girard spent hours dancing around the workstation hub to this stuff; he found his right foot tapping in time to the beat as he softly began peeling away the outer core panels.

Wheatley hopped up onto the table and watched intently, studying what Nathan was doing. He had never seen his insides, or even what remained, nor had he ever seen the actual process of someone working on such a device by hand. It was nothing short of marvelous to him, really.

Hours seemed to pass, and the sounds and sights of what was a pile of burnt and dented scraps and wires being transformed to look more like something resembling a functioning Personality Core was nothing sort of a miracle to the former inhabitant of the equally former scrap heap. Nathan had dug out several heavy-duty batteries from Girard's desk, and had even taken to snacking on the gummies using a pair of sanitized tweezers as a sort of reward system as he went along, and before too long, he was ready to test out his design.

"Ready?" Nathan queried, his hand on a switch.

"Please."

With a flick, a bright blue light flooded the area, filling up the entire room with a glow far more intense than the actual installed system.

"AMAZING!" Wheatley exclaimed, looking the core light over. "Even with all the exhaust ports sealed, it runs so well!"

[It doesn't need exhaust ports, Wheatley. It's running on battery power. The only part that can open is this part in the back, and it's insulated. It's just as tightly sealed up and reinforced as my carrying bag. Which reminds me.]

He walked over to Girard's desk and grabbed all of the other zip drive disks. These, along with the now-powered down audio device, its headphones, and a few leftover batteries, were placed gingerly in his bag.

[Well, it's the least I could do; bring his music with us. I'm certain he would want us to relax for a while at some point.]

"Oh! Right! His plan. You told me you would tell me what his plan was."

Nathan sighed, picking up the core light and turning to face the Genetic Profile Extractor.

Like a pair of ghosts, the figures of Girard and himself appeared in a haze. Girard, who was sitting on the device, appeared to be in a more casual attire; indigo fleece lounge slacks with little white polka dots, a plain white teeshirt and a pair of dusty white socks. A silver chain was clearly visible around the sides of his neck; Wheatley hadn't noticed it before due to Girard's more formal attire in past memories. In his lap sat a completed Personality Core with that terribly familiar yellow optic lens.

A look of poorly hidden misery was painted across his face while inaudible words came out of Girard's mouth. The volume of his voice steadily increased as the two figures became more opaque.

"_...necessary. I'm not being crazy, Nathan. Please. I don't have any time, they don't have any time, and..." Girard looked down. "I believe in you enough to know I'll be fine." He stood and placed the core in the Extractor's cradle, locking it in._

The present-time Nathan walked around the scene, standing next to Wheatley at the foot of the machine. Wheatley had devoted his time to examining the non-formal attire.

"_We can go get the volunt-"_

"_They're already down on the testing tracks, Nate. I checked. I double checked. We can't get to them. Craig called it big time. She knew our moves, and she acted pretty fast."_

_The memory-Nathan's face curled into a grimace. "GLaDOS left us with other options, Girard. You don't have to do this."_

"_But...but what about you? What about me?" A light bulb clicked on in Girard's mind. "I volunteer myself to be the Genetic Profile for this device I helped you make. As the programmer of its extensive stellar chart program, I feel that I would make the best Genetic Profile candidate to use it to its fullest extent for its distraction purposes." He grinned widely, knowing he had Nathan in a corner._

"_We'd be one man short for our project."_

"_I'm the one who got us volunteers, and they're as good as gone now anyways, man. I kept most people thinking we were doing something else entirely, which you wanted. And I mapped out the entire known galaxy for my core - my personal core that you assigned me! - to use as its method of distraction. So I've done everything I needed to do for this project. The least I can do is replace one of the volunteers we lost."_

"_...You should have taken your medication more often."_

"_I'm only on half my dose. There was only one pill left; I had more, but I suspect Iggy's mellowness indicates what happened to the rest of them."_

"_...Richard was supposed to keep that miserable reptile locked up after regular working hours."_

"_That iguana's his baby."_

"_We put children in the appropriate children's wing."_

_A moment of quiet awkwardness stood between them before Girard spoke up._

"_Nate, I know everything's gonna be okay, okay?" He rested his hand on Nathan's shoulder. "I wouldn't insist on this if I didn't think you had everything under control and that you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me."_

Both Nathan's cheeks and nose blushed slightly at the statement. Wheatley sighed and walked to the present Nathan, wrapping his arms around him as best as he could.

"_I...I guess...flattery gets you to some places..." He nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Fine. Fine, I..." Nathan sighed. "I'll do it. I really don't want to...but your argument is indisputable, at best. I...I just worry that this newer model isn't as reliable as the model in Henry's hub..."_

_Girard grabbed Nathan's arm. "It will be fine. Mother Selene wills it to be so." He gave a warm smile to the sniffling Nathan._

_Nathan gave Girard an incredulous look. "You and your Mother Selene..."_

"_Do you mind if I give a little prayer to her while you set everything up?"_

"_Quietly."_

_Girard smiled and shifted on the body outline in the Extractor's main table, folding his hands around the silver charm as Nathan began placing nodules around the base of his neck and all along the left side of his head and forehead._

"_You're going to want to just...close your eyes and relax...when I turn the machine on, okay?"_

_His hands were shaking, and Girard noticed. He grabbed a hand and pulled it closer to the charm._

"_You should do a little prayer, too, Nate. I...I know you don't like praying for things, but...well, think of it as a good luck thing."_

"_...Alright."_

"_I'll say it for us, okay?"_

"_...Alright..." Nathan set the nodule down and wrapped his free hand around both his and Girard's as best as he could. Girard grinned, amused at the pure awkwardness of Nathan's utter lack of knowledge of what to do._

"_Okay. Ready?"_

"_Just...do it."_

_Girard nodded. "Oh, Mother Selene, in your everlasting wisdom, grant dear Nathan the knowledge and courage to move forwards with his grand plan to disable the maniacal machine that has tried to destroy us all on numerous occasions..."_

His words began to trail off as the images of the two faded into the aether.

Nathan collapsed to the floor, shaking.

"I shouldn't have done it. Little idiot believed in me with his stupid religious garbage…for what? For me to just get us frozen, our brains hacked up by some vengeful backstabber, and eventually launched out into space by the design of the very thing we tried so hard to destroy?

"Why did I let him do it? Couldn't he see how important he was around here? I couldn't take it without him here!"

Wheatley watched the little flickers of images dancing about the room; shadows of memories that clearly haunted him.

To the right, the console's monitor shone brightly, Richard sitting and grinning with a large green iguana perched on his head. Nathan slowly creeping up behind him, keeping silent before lunging forwards. The reptile leapt for its life as Nathan slipped a rag from his right pocket, wrapping his left arm around Richard's throat and heaving him to the floor. The collision broke the image apart like glass, the monitor's light shorting out.

"I couldn't let them go! They'd be taken away from me if I hadn't! I knew that's what it would come down to…"

The workstation behind them, set nearly dead center in the room, lit up and drew Wheatley's attention. A large pile of ghastly textbooks populated the top of the desk, Craig's head peering up from somewhere in the middle to gaze upon the crazed-looking Nathan's fervent stare. Craig looked behind him, at the Extractor, defeat filling his visage as he got up. The image of Nathan behind the desk looked rather elated, madness twisting what would have been a cheery smile into a sadistic grin. The pair quickly dissipated as Nathan curled up, resting his head against the core.

"I had to go down with the ship. I was so alone…all of my friends, my only friends that I had ever had…I wasn't even a good enough friend to admit it. I couldn't…especially not to Girard. Oh God, how pathetic am I to have to actually verbalize that to make it actually sink in how absolutely alone I was, even when there were still employees here…? Was it not enough to have my boss tear you apart and rebuild you in his grand stupidity?"

Wheatley could feel his anguish seeping through him, burning through every circuit that had yet to be burned up by the Harpoon.

"Nathan, please calm down. We don't…augh…" He winced, clutching his head. "Nathan… Nathan, please…"

Nathan's head shot up, and as he quickly moved, his leg connected with the core's light switch, turning the floodlight on while aimed at his face.

His scream pierced the air as he flailed, clutching his face. "Bloody…augh!" He sent the core shell flying, curling up in a fetal position. "You right bloody minge! The hell? Ugh…"

Wheatley flinched and turned towards Nathan, who was becoming less stressed out and more annoyed by the second. It was enough to knock him out of his overload and gave him a chance to react. "You alright?"

"Bloody light tried to sear my eyes out!" Nathan shouted, rubbing his eyes profusely.

"Well, the light is terribly bright. Perhaps you should put in a new switch that's not so sensitive to movement…?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. I'm…I'm just going to lie here and recover a bit."

"Please do. That was terribly close to a meltdown. Too close."

"…I'm sorry…"

"You have a reason to be upset, from the looks of it. Just…don't be so hard on yourself. You made a mistake. I've made a ton of them myself. Nothing to blame yourself over. Nobody could have seen this all happening to us, not even Doug and all of his wisdom."

"…S'pose you're right…" Nathan sighed deeply as he slowly calmed down.

"…You think I'm right?"

"Maybe."

"About time I was right about something."

"You've been on par for a lot of things thus far. Don't let your former programming make you sell yourself short, mate."

Wheatley smiled.

"Right. I'll try"

Wheatley looked around as Nathan continued wallowing in agony and muttering obscenities. Feeling less agonized, he took the time to examine the lab a bit. The desk settings that had been illuminated by the panic-induced memories seemed interesting to study.

The desk behind him was still the resting place of several books, now layered in dirt and grime. Wiping off the covers slightly revealed a pile of strange trivia books and record collections. The desk contained numerous zip disks with OS types and stopwatch times written on their note panel. Cocking an eyebrow in interest, he decided to merely set a few of the OS's he recognized to the side to collect later.

He shuffled over to Rick's desk, finding the dusty animal cage slightly disconcerting. Inspecting the drawers, he found slews of old floppy disks with the names of what Nathan's subconscious identified as 'video games,' whatever those were.

"Pitfall" sounded terribly dangerous, "Prince of Persia" sounded dull, and "Asteroids" sounded like something that belonged at Girard's desk.

Speaking of which...

He set the floppy disks down and made his way over to Girard's desk. He softly ran his hands over the designs of all the stars, admiring the craftsmanship.

Examining the desk caused a massive spill of papers from the top drawer. He compiled them and looked them over; they were all labeled with odd dates, about a month's time in length. It looked remotely like the night sky drawn into different positions on each paper with little notes upon each star; Nathan's intervention provided the information that they were all star charts listed by astrological signs for their current position of longitude and latitude.

Wheatley grinned; despite the lack of a proper internal clock, he could easily decipher the time of the year with them once they got outside! There were disks with various strange symbols and dates matching the papers inside the drawer; he took both sets and folded them up neatly, collecting them and the other disks and piling them into the bag.

It was starting to get too full; there was clearly no room for his core inside, and it was likely going to be too heavy to carry soon.

He lifted the bag and tested the weight; it wasn't too heavy, and the weight of the portal gun would surely offset it.

He then sighed and walked over to Nathan's desk, noting the picture frame almost immediately. Gingerly lifting it, pieces of broken glass tinkling out of the frame as he did so, he found a picture of the four of them, standing up against a wall.

Girard stood to the far left, smiling widely and looking as perky and cheerful as usual. Nathan stood next the him, his arms crossed and a stern look on his face; the same one he had in his ID photo. Craig stood to Nathan's left, hands folded rather politely in front of him, his almost comically large glasses nearly dwarfing his face. To the far right was Rick, giving an almost perfect 'come hither' look with his arms akimbo.

"What a bunch of odd humans you all are." Wheatley joked.

"We are, aren't we…? One big dysfunctional group…" Nathan muttered, getting up.

The largest workstation table lit up, and Wheatley quickly looked over to catch the sight of the ghastly quartet materializing.

"_Alright, what's this project about, Spurling? Dad won't tell me anything, but he says I'm perfect for it."_

_Rick stared down at the wide assortment of optic lenses, in all their various colors and designs, brushing away from his line of sight was the tail of his dear pet green iguana, perched upon his head._

"_First off, Richard, you shall address me as 'Sir' or 'Boss'. Secondly, this project's purpose is entirely between the four of us. I requested that your father send me a programmer.; I assume that's what he's sent you to me for. You do know how to program things, I assume?"_

"_That's one of my things, yeah. What's Scribbles McGee here bringing?"_

_Girard looked up from his notebook, confused._

"_I requested an intern to join us for specific purposes that are not of your concern at the moment."_

_Craig gently picked up one of the optic lenses. "I take it we are continuing the usage of the Personality Core designs you worked on with Mr. Jameson."_

"_Indeed. Finally, intelligent queries."_

"_No such thing as a stupid question, just uninformed ones," Girard muttered as he continued scribbling in his notebook._

"_You alright, Girard?" Nathan asked, giving a mildly worried look._

"_New dosage." His voice was flat and disinterested. "Got me locked down…"_

"_You just sit there and take notes, then."_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Alright then, where was I? Oh! Right then. This project involves creating a 4-set of a brand new Personality Core set, and no matter our role, how big or small, we shall all be responsible for the personality matrix of one individual Core._

"_This Core shall be your lifeblood. You will spend all of your spare time working to perfect this Core. This is your child, essentially, and you are responsible for every aspect of it. This Core's very persona, however, must be based upon something that can rapidly distribute a highly distracting and/or disturbing themed topic._

_The sole purpose of these Cores' personality traits will be, like many of the other Cores that have been built, to lock GLaDOS up. However…there's a second part to them which I will explain once we start personalizing them."_

_He waved his hand over the set of optic lenses._

"_Choose which one you like. Just…pick it up by the edges, please."_

_Rick knelt down and the iguana turned its attention to all the bright colors._

"_So Iggy, which one do you like? I like this green one here…"_

_He picked up a dark green lens with a boxy design and a rectangular iris._

"_You like it?"_

_The iguana focused its gaze on the lens and followed it about as Rick moved it._

"_I think Iggy and I will pick this one."_

"_Wonderful." Nathan deadpanned his voice as he gently grabbed the lens from Rick's grasp._

_Craig looked over the set and picked up a circularly designed magenta lens, holding it up to the light and musing._

"_I can appreciate a highly detailed work…such precision in every bit…did you make these yourself, sir?"_

"_I did indeed. Glasswork is not something I'm formally educated in, but I spent a bit of my youth building various things in shop classes for profit…glasswork, ornamenting, even made my sister a lovely gold leaf-plated music box, I did." Nathan sighed deeply, a look of something between sorrow and self-praise crossing his visage as he looked upwards._

"_I'm sorry; to answer your question, I did in fact make these myself and I just finished polishing them down, which is why I would like for you all to be very gentle with them."_

"_You know that one's pink, right?" Rick leaned over and asked Craig._

"_Color does not affect my appreciation for the amazing detail etched into this. I am impressed. I will take this one."_

"_I appreciate the admiring of my hard work. It's all hand-done, you know…"_

"_Really?" Craig gave a lift of his eyebrows, clearly piqued. "Not machined?"_

"_Not at all."_

"_You could make a fortune in artisan glassworking …"_

"_Science is my calling, unfortunately."_

"_Alright, just kiss and get it over with." Rick sighed deeply, becoming more agitated by the moment._

_Nate flashed a grimace before looking over at the remaining member of the group. "Girard…?"_

_Girard sat, eyes fixated on a dark yellow lens sitting on the opposite side of the table._

"_I would like the one that has the sunburst design, please."_

"_Which one?"_

"_That one." Girard pointed it out._

"_You like this one?"_

"_It looks like sunrays…I like it."_

_Rick shook his head, giving a displeased grunt. He unfolded his arms and set them on his hips, staring up at Nate. "So what about you, cupcake?"_

"_Well, I…" Nate fumbled, frowning._

"_Pick one!"_

"_Don't rush the boss," Girard sighed._

_Nathan spotted the lens in the middle, a bright blue and ever so full optic, and claimed it. He had grown attached to it as he crafted it from the very start, and the thought of it not being his was too much for him. Keeping an aura of calm, and picked it up and smiled._

"_There. Done."_

"I…don't know what to say…" Wheatley muttered as the image faded. "…I could have never conceived that the scientists who built me ever felt so much about my construction…that I was just built for their amusement. But you honestly, truthfully, wanted to make something special with a purpose…"

He looked back at Nathan.

"Do-do-don't think I…I didn't already know that you built me and actually liked what you built…but there is something that boils warmly to the surface of my consciousness, the comparison you draw…it-it evokes those feelings…"

"Don't think too much of it, Wheatley…"

"But it's a wonderful feeling; I feel wonderful!"

Wheatley leaned over and tightly hugged Nathan, smiling and resting his head on Nathan's shoulder. Wheatley's body might've only been an illusion, but the comfort accompanying the embrace certainly felt genuine.

"Alright…alright now. Stop." Nathan brushed his shoulder off, his hand flying through Wheatley's body.

"My apologies…" Wheatley sat up. "I sense severe exhaustion in you, despite the rest cycle we have only just recently awoken from. Is there a proper resting facility nearby?"

Nathan looked around as he got up.

"This way." He grinned, walking towards a door in the far upper left corner of the room.

The room was small, nearly-bare, and quiet, but Wheatley could have sworn he could hear...that song...

(This is my room. We can sleep in the bed. Not much, but...Wheatley?)

Wheatley's attention was drawn to a strange piano-shaped object in the corner with the desk lamp on it.

(Oh, my harpsichord?)

[I can't stop hearing that song...]

(I played it every night, all night. I'm not surprised...)

[...Why?]

(A few reasons...)

Imagined lights danced at the doorframe and on the harpsichord stool, manifesting into images of Nathan and Girard. At first, Wheatley hadn't realized the man at the door was Girard, as he was dressed entirely in galaxy-printed sleepwear and a nightcap with a dangling star at the end. Finally materializing completely, they began to play out a scene.

"_What is it, Morgenstern?" Nathan's voice sounded stern, sending a chill up the younger man's spine and making him quake. The little quilted star at the end of his night cap shook twice as hard as he did._

"_S-s-s-sir…I…can't…sleepI'msosorryIdisturbedyou!"_

_Nathan's shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath and grabbed the bridge of his nose. "My apologies. I…I lost my place in this graph when you came in."_

_He spun around on his stool, facing Girard._

"_Now, why can't you sleep?"_

_He counted the reasons on his fingers. "Well, Iggy climbs around everywhere because Rick doesn't keep him in his cage, and Rick's tracker tests are loud and noisy because he's programmed it to go through a bunch of video games in the fastest time, and Craig turns over pages and pages and pages when he reads and he slams the hard covers and typing, typing, typing!" Girard clamped his hands over his ears. "Just…I can hear them over my muffs and I'm not sleeping well at all…"_

"_So what would you have me do? I can't just petition for you to receive your own room; we have too many employees as it is and sleeping room is a premium. The only reason I have my own room is because I'm the head of a program."_

"_Can…can I sleep in the office?"_

"_Well if you can handle my harpsichord all night. I'm not going to be sleeping anyway. Between the reports and the cores, I don't have much time to relieve stress, so every second of the day has to get filled somehow.."_

"_I…I like it. Y-your playing, that is..."_

"…_You do?" A nervous shift on the bench, a little scratching of the back of his neck…Nathan was clearly flattered._

"_That song is really nice. One time, when I was putting in extra hours, I fell asleep listening to it. I didn't wanna say anything and hurt your feelings Boss, but…that song is like, the only thing that really puts me to sleep."_

_A small smile formed at the corner of Nathan's lips, followed by a soft huff._

"_Would you like to hop in the bed while I go back to work?"_

"_Sir…?"_

"_It's not getting much use besides being a more comfortable chair."_

"_You mean it?" Girard's eyes seemed to twinkle. "Thank you, sir!"_

"_Come off it, now. Go on, crawl in there and sleep before I regret my decision."_

"_Yes sir!" Girard quickly leapt at the mattress, leaving the bed a mess as Girard kicked off his slippers and nearly wallowed into the sheets._

_Nathan cringed and walked over, doing his best to reorganize the squirming mass of sheets around the blond co-worker._

"_Now keep quiet, and I'll get back to playing."_

"_Thank you, sir."_

"_Please don't mention it." He sighed deeply and plopped back onto his stool, wiggling his fingers in preparation to continue playing._

As the images began to fade, Nathan could do little more than stare, misery filling him.

"Shall we retire, or shall we just stand here with you just staring at your harpsichord until your pass out of exhaustion?"

Nathan glared at Wheatley.

"…Oh. Well…I'm dragging your body to bed. Stare at the thing all you want."

Wheatley crawled into the sheets and curled up as Nathan sat at the foot of the bed.

The song still lingered in his mind, haunting him with the ghost of the man whom he had considered his only friend, standing in the doorway, waiting to rest as well.

The image flickered and faded as Girard made a move towards the bed, and Nathan shuddered. He turned to see that Wheatley was in a sleeping state, and he could feel his body slipping into unconsciousness.

It was terrifying how much Nathan depended on such an apparently faulty machine to keep active and on his feet.

It wasn't his fault that he was so broken though. It was his own. His, and Richard's, and Craig's, and even Girard's.

No, No, if there was one thing he was going to take from Wheatley, it was that the blame was not all theirs alone. It was Henry's and everyone who followed his vengeful madness to their own graves.

And it was GLaDOS's, too. Even in her own twisted and tortured insanity from this place, she had caused enough misery and destruction to have warranted the call to her demise, and the needless destruction that the fruitless efforts had wrought were but the frosting on the cake.

Violence begetting violence. An eye for an eye left everyone dead here…

He had to sleep. Wheatley was primarily offline now, and there was nothing he could really do but think until his body could no longer sustain consciousness on its own. He simply stopped resisting the call of rest, and lied back on the bed with his weary, tired eyes closed. The blackness came swiftly and swallowed him whole.


	11. Idiot's Paradox

Idiot's Paradox

[FACT: The Socratic Paradox, also known as the Idiot's Paradox, is the illogical fallacy that a being that is known to have no knowledge does, in fact, knows only that very fact, thus negating that it knows absolutely nothing.]

It should have been a silent sleep, but even in a standby mode, all the horrors seemed to seep through from that little machine's memory files and trigger all the other haunting horrors within Nathan's own mind as they played through in a broken, free-floating manner.

"_Do you remember when we were friends? Awww, friendship...friendly times..."_

"_Nate? Do you remember when I said I was really happy to be here away from all my brothers and sisters, when we were all together? Well...I kinda lied. I miss my big huge family. I miss our monthly feasts in the yard under Mother Selene, and I miss all my brothers and sisters making fun of me and my college major. Maybe...maybe I should have just stayed home..."_

"_Nathan, you're really going to go to that school in America...? Why? We have nice unis here, too! You're just going to leave us too...?"_

"_Oh! Oh! Don't leave me behind! Do pick me up, if you would..."_

"_Spurling...please listen to me. Don't listen to them about this project. You and I both know...She is watching all the time, trying to break you down...don't be foolish...don't let your guard down...and stop this project before She kills us all..."_

"_The engineers tried everything to make me...behave..."_

"'_She'? Doug, you can call the machine by its name."_

"_You worked for Henry, right? You know how many people we've used to stop Her, yes?"_

"_Once, they even attached an Intelligence Dampening Sphere on me; it clung to my brain like a tumor, generating an endless stream of terrible ideas..."_

"_What plan do you have to stop Her, Spurling? That's all I want to know."_

"_It's not your division. You're working on that tunneling gun thing."_

"_I asked Henry this as well; he didn't give me an answer, either. If you have no plan, stop. You will do more harm than good."_

"_Yes, you're the tumor. You're not just a regular moron, you're designed to be a moron."_

"_I! AM NOT! A MORON!"_

_SMASH!_

"_YES YOU ARE! YOU'RE THE MORON THEY BUILT TO MAKE ME AN IDIOT!"_

"_Are you insinuating that I don't know what I'm doing?"_

"_Maybe. Maybe not. But you seem no farther ahead in stopping Her than he was, kid. You got an ambitious head, and I've seen you work. You don't always think ahead. And this? This is a chess game. She'll beat you quickly if there's no plan."_

"_Well how about now? Who's the moron now, huh?"_

"_Nate, we're all gonna die in here, aren't we? We're gonna die in here, far below the ground, far from the open sky...I'll never see the stars again with my own eyes in the night sky...I should've just stuck to radio broadcasting..."_

Waking up screaming was not a surprise. Waking up screaming while something else was screaming inside your head was.

(I'm sorry! Stop! Please! I'm sorry...)

It was times like these, as the little robot in his head began to sob, when the emotional response melted through his brain and set off all the little chemicals and electrical impulses, when Nathan wished he could freely console the poor machine and tell him it was alright. But he was right; there was a lot to be sorry for. But feeling sorry for himself and Wheatley's self was not something he had the luxury to do.

He had to escape. He needed a plan.

(I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...)

A sick numbness filled him; Wheatley was going to short out again, and the looming black cloud of only having the two chances left for Wheatley to reboot was a terrifying reality. He had to stop him all by himself without relying on them.

[Quit crying. She can't hear you and you don't have to apologize to me. I can't fault you; glass house and all.]

(Shut up!)

Nathan stopped moving and turned around, glaring at the imagined humanoid form of Wheatley cowering in bed under the sheets, shivering in the fetal position.

"How dare you. I'm just trying to help you not kill me, and thusly yourself. I let myself go last...morning? Night? It doesn't matter. Just, quit it. Think of something positive, or you'll short out. We've only got, what? Two more of your friends left to help us?"

(What's the point...? She's just going to kill you when we get back up there. Either we rot in here or we get shot up and drowned in neurotoxin.)

"The point is...if you don't stop crying and feeling sorry for yourself, you're just going to short yourself out. Now stop blubbering and..."

Nathan sighed.

"Think of something nice. Like Chell, all nestled up warmly next to you..."

Nathan scuttled over and sat down on the bed.

"And...she doesn't think anything bad about you. In fact, she's very happy to see you..."

"No! Stop...please..." Wheatley curled into a ball, shaking and audibly sobbing. "Please just leave me alone..."

Nathan could feel everything slowly shutting down and going numb within him, and with all the mental fortuity he could muster, he flung himself off the bed, sending himself crashing upon the floor in a heap. The numbness quickly mixed with pain, distracting Nathan for the moment.

The sound of sobbing died down into little more than a background sound ringing in Nathan's subconscious as Wheatley completely dropped out of all primary spheres of control. Nathan, realizing he was completely in control, lied on the floor and decided to wait until his body stopped being numb before he'd get up to begin his plan.

A lovely suit of bulletproof armor was all he needed.

Oh, but how would he hide this from her...? Surely she'd notice that he modified his...

A lab coat! Of course! His was hanging on a coat rack behind his desk!

Brilliant! This was coming along wonderfully!

Giving his body a test stretch before attempting to fully shake off the numbness rewarded him with a fully functioning body once more, and he quickly got to his feet and began stripping his jumpsuit off.

Rummaging through his clothes, a faint trace of a rather unpleasant smell brushed around Nathan's nose, reminding him that he had gone quite a while without bathing.

A nice warm shower would help his disposition, allow him to think out exactly what he needed to do.

Making his way to the communal showers and dropping off his jumpsuit at his workstation, a fleeting, silent shadow fluttered down a nearby staircase, spotted out of the corner of his eye. A quick and more thorough look over proved that it was merely another illusion as suspected.

The door made a peculiar sound as it opening; it sounded like a low roar rather than the sleek creaking of a long-sealed door. The room itself looked pristine, if out of use. The comfort of relative cleanliness, all things considered, relaxed him as he walked to the storage lockers. Finding his personal locker and deactivating the electronic locking mechanism, he quickly set to work in completely disrobing and grabbing a towel.

Another shadow floated down an empty corridor; Nathan was beginning to think that it wasn't just his imagination, and it was worrying him. He hoped that Wheatley was alright.

He picked a showering booth and checked the water; very little iron-laden water in these pipes, much to his surprise. He smiled and adjusted the temperature, then began to shower.

A strange shiver ran up his back as he stepped into the water; he could swear he heard a thunderclap as the water slapped against the tiles.

His mind was going terribly awry; he had to hold it steady. Was Wheatley frittering down again…? He hoped not. If Wheatley shorted out again, there was nothing he could do but black out again until another one of the other Personality Cores and/or that lovely little Angel came to the rescue again to reboot him.

His mind raced and spun in a fury, and his legs seemed to give out under him in a fit of dizziness and hungry nausea. Catching himself slightly by angling his body against the stall's wall, he grabbed at his right temple and closed his eyes, hoping everything would stop spinning for a moment.

He was greeted with a pseudo-warm embrace, the same feeling he had felt in the office as Wheatley had embraced him. He opened an eye to find that at least something seemed correct; Wheatley was indeed holding on to him.

He was sobbing.

"…"

Wheatley was still mildly teary-eyed, atop now also being shaky and babbling.

"I'm trying…"

Nathan stroked his head in an effort to let the poor rattled machine know he was trying to be supportive. It was hard being sympathetic, given how steeled he had managed to get his resolve in a short period of time, but he quickly came to the conclusion that Wheatley lacked the fortitude and simply did not borrow a bit of it for himself.

"I'm feeling better, if I'm honest…"

A low, unsatiated growl of an unearthly nature oozed through the shower stall door, drawing Nathan's attention. Whatever was making the noise, Wheatley was utterly terrified of it and showed it by trembling a bit more.

It was then he noticed the harpoon in the wall.

It obviously wasn't real, as it seemed to clip through the door of the stall, but it was visible nonetheless. Nathan stood up, bringing Wheatley with him.

He wasn't sure what terrified him more; that something that was now growling behind the door had launched a harpoon through the door, or that the harpoon itself was at eye level with him, aimed slightly to the left of where he had been standing before he collapsed.

"God, you can see that too? I've really done a number on you…please accept my sincerest apology…"

"You're not doing it intentionally, are you?"

"No! That's insidious!"

"Then don't fret over it."

A short pause stood between them, but Wheatley's curiosity overtook him.

"Are you alright, Nathan?"

"Are you?"

"It was a close call, but I came to in the nick of time, it seems…"

"Are you done sobbing about nothing, then?"

"I'm quite interested in that plan of yours." Wheatley cautiously reached out and yanked the harpoon out of the wall, causing it to dissipate.

Nathan grinned and let go of Wheatley, getting back to showering while still feeling as tired and hungry as he did. Grabbing the bottle of clumpy shampoo and applying it, Nathan began answering Wheatley's question.

"We need to prepare for everything she has waiting for us. And let's face it; I'm not bulletproof."

"Ah, you plan on making some sort of armor, then?"

"Exactly."

"That's brilliant! Wish I'd thought of that…well, I, in a sense, have." Wheatley laughed. "However, what shall we do about the neurotoxin?"

"There's bound to be a spare cache of gas masks around here somewhere…"

"Wonderful. We'll just need to find it."

"We can try my office later."

Nathan finished shampooing his hair and quickly grabbed the bottle of shower gel. It had congealed into a viscous mass of cleansing gelatin with little rock-solid scrubbing beads inside that smelled vaguely of fermented perfumes, but it was better than nothing.

Cringing ever so slightly, he began lathering up and finishing his shower. Wheatley merely leaned up against the door, watching Nathan go through, what to him, was merely another laborious human maintenance protocol.

He was certain that humans could just build a machine to do it for them.

Within a few minutes, Nathan was done showering, and he quickly set to keeping himself warm without the water running. Metal floors were quite unforgiving without central heating.

"We should scavenge around for something for you to consume, Nathan…"

"We still have the gummies in my pocket, Wheatley. Besides, right now? I'm freezing. More important to handle that."

Opening his locker he found, instead of his typical suit and tie ensemble, a full testing uniform waiting for him to change into.

A shudder raced up Nathan's spine. She was paying attention.

He still had to try and outwit her.

He grabbed the ensemble and quickly put it on before quickly making his way to the foundry.

"Now...scraps..."

The room was littered in alloy scraps; none of it was his personal alloy mix, of course, so he'd have to smelt it all down to make components.

This was going to take time and energy.

He sighed and grabbed protective gear.

The arduous process of melting everything down and stripping all the scraps of impurities kept him alert, at the very least. She was probably trying to analyze the composition so she could make something better to pierce it.

Or maybe she was sitting up there on her throne, laughing at him and his futile efforts.

Whatever it was, he hated her more now than ever, and the anger fueled his efforts. Every minute he sat watching the alloys cook was another minute he knew he was closer to facing her and finishing her.

...Somehow.

[Do you have any ideas as to how to kill her? The only plan I had, well, we've already established that it's been done twice...]

(Absolutely none from me. I have been spending all of the time here simply self-evaluating. After my last stint, some more key files got corrupted; sorry. They must be the ones that help you discern fact from fantasy, given that you are starting to see everything that isn't actually tangible as...well, being fully tangible, to be blunt about it. Past the point of tasteful restraint, mate. You're going bloody nutters and it's because I'm slowly frying your brain like a panned egg. I'm sorry.)

[It's alright, mate. There's no one to miss me if she kills me, at least. And if they would, they're still frozen. Presumably.]

While the metals boiled down, he passed the time by making measurements of the body parts he'd be properly armoring and making rough estimates of how much of his alloy he'd have to conjure up. He'd be pushing it, due to the scarcity of the components, but he had just enough to make his jumpsuit into a sufficient brigantine. All he needed was a pair of minimalistic shoulder and upper arm guards, as well as a brace for his left arm, a pair of thigh guards and, most importantly, a breastplate, back plate, and a throat guard to protect his vitals.

He had gotten over the lack of working clocks in the area by humming songs he knew were exactly five and ten minutes long apiece. If anything, music was calming both himself and Wheatley down to a lull. He knew the both of them needed it.

As he finished the last piece, he could feel himself getting woozy, threatening to conk out face-first in the smelter's pool. He needed food and sleep before he could continue.

(Those gummi candies, Nathan...)

[I know...]

Pulling the pouch out of his original jumpsuit's pocket, he sat up against the smelter and, without realizing, devoured the remaining contents of the pouch.

[Ugh...so much for moderation...]

(Great. We're doomed.)

[Not if we get out fast.]

(...So we're doomed then.)

[Stop it...]

Nathan lied back and slowly nodded off to sleep, leaving Wheatley up to ponder plans and wait.

He didn't want to wreck anything while Nathan rested.

It felt like years for Nathan to wake back up. Maybe it was years, Wheatley wasn't sure. Without his internal clock, he simply had less of an idea of the flow of time than Nathan did. Nathan, at the very least, knew how long it took for his face to sprout that silly little patchy beard, so even if he didn't know the exact time, he could guess.

It was certainly starting back up, Wheatley noted. Maybe it had been a day since he took a razor to his face. Or maybe a week. He honestly hadn't a clue.

But Nathan was up and awake, and he felt refreshed enough to give a good stretch and a yawn.

"Ah, warmth." Nathan smiled and stood up. "Alright, nearly done. Back to the grind."

Nathan made his way to the showering area once more, scrubbing the used jumpsuit clean and wringing it out before continuing.

Leaving it partially damp aided in the final step: welding. Getting back to his lab, he quickly seized a pair of heavy duty scissors and some equally heavy duty thread from a stock room, as well as a small cold touch welding kit.

Despite a lack of formal training in armoring testing jumpsuits, he quickly stripped off his currently clean jumpsuit and began compiling everything together. The flame-retardant material made his task much easier as he went along, reinforcing all the armor welding sites with extra straps, sewn in to hold the alloy plates in place.

Feeling energized from the remainder of the gummies he had eaten and a new sense of purpose, he raced through the work with meticulous precision. Taking only a few hours (he estimated), the whole suit was armoured, and a thought came to mind. Running to the Machine Aesthetics Lab, he located a spray paint gun and a bucket of sky blue paint, then made his way back to his lab. Spraying up the metal to visibly match the jumpsuit, he hung it up to dry while he grabbed his lab coat, wrapping it around himself for warmth.

Looking up at the ceiling, waiting for the paint to dry, he spent the time letting it go through escape scenarios. Nothing looked at all do-able, but he had to think of every little thing.

After a long while, the paint and jumpsuit strips were dry, and he was ready to leave.

Putting everything on, a final thought crossed his mind.

[Wheatley, we have a library here. Would you like to grab something?]

(I...I've read every book in GLaDOS's mainframe.)

[Would you like to fully experience a wonderful book anyways?]

(Oh, very much so.)

[Let's go grab a few, then. There's enough room in my bag for a few.]

(Brilliant.)

Diving into the library, Wheatley could feel Nathan's mind racing for book titles.

Arriving at the resource library, Wheatley gasped; everything between paperbacks looking frayed with time, hardcovers standing firm, and thin black clipboard-sized box things stacked up on shelves.

(What are those black things?)

[Oh, I wonder if they work...]

He picked one of the black clipboards up and pushed a button. The screen flickered on and what appeared was a page from a Shakespeare play.

(Is this…a book of some sort?)

[An electronic sort of device for book content recording, in the event of classical book erosion. I believe there's one here…]

Nathan shuffled through the pile, looking at reference notes on the backs to find what he was looking for. After a few moments, he grinned as he opened his bag.

[This one. I know you'll be interested in this one.]

(What is it?)

[_Discourses on Livy_. The second we leave this place, I want to start having you read it.]

(Alright. Any other ones?)

[…You like Shakespeare?]

(Oh, yes! Can we grab that first one?)

[We can grab a few, sure.]

Nathan shuffled a few more electronic record books into his bag, nearly filling it.

(Shall we go? The bag's getting a tad heavy.)

[Not that I want to, but we have no choice. There is no way to escape if she is still online.]

(So back to the elevator?)

"We have to leave some day...might as well be today..."

Nathan adjusted and closed up his coat, adjusted his bag on his shoulder, double-checked the tightness of his Longfall Boots, and looked around for the portal gun.

He walked to the elevator, and as he got a few feet away, he heard a shout.

"Hey!"

Nathan turned around and jumped as Richard's face greeted his in his signature sly smirk.

To Richard's sides were Girard and Craig, standing with warm looks on their faces.

Clearly they were all hallucinations, but they certainly looked solid and quite accurate in detail.

"Hey, you're not leaving without saying goodbye, are ya?" Richard joked.

"What Richard is trying to say is that we are wishing you good luck," Craig began, adjusting his large glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. "and while I do not believe in things like luck, you do have a high rate of unfortunate miscalculations that do not favor you, so perhaps wishing you luck might be of some value."

"I'll pray to Mother Selene for you, Nate! She'll keep you safe!" Girard folded his hands in prayer and smiled widely, causing Nathan to blush and grow slightly teary-eyed. "Don't be sad, we'll be okay here!"

"Now get going before you lose your nerve, Nate." Richard sat his hand on Nathan's shoulder. "I know we don't get along, but you're the only one we got to root for so...well, I'm rooting for ya."

He let go of Nathan and turned around, leading the others along back to their workshop as they faded out of sight.

He turned around again, and Doug was now standing in front of him, his arms crossed.

"Oh. Hello." Nathan gave a confused look.

"Figured I'd show up and ground you a bit, what with all the well-wishing. Well-wishing isn't a secure plan, you know." 

"We know we have to shut her down, and my only plan to do so is null and void now."

"You'll have time in the elevator to think of something. It had better be good, because if it has one minor flaw, she will eat you alive."

Doug unfolded his arms and walked past Nathan, back towards his office.

"Thanks, Doug! Always a pleasure!" Nathan gave a half-hearted wave back at Rattmann's office, then walked inside the elevator.

"Let the planning begin."

The trip was longer than expected, yet Nathan still couldn't fathom any reasonable way to knock her out besides physically cutting her wires. He sighed as the elevator stopped, and a terrifying sight stood waiting for him.

"Hello?"

(Oh great! Time to test the armor out!)

[Augh! I knew she'd ambush us!]

As the doors opened, he dashed out of the elevator and ducked behind the elevator shaft in an attempt to put as much as possible between him and the turret's…gun turrets.

"Hello…? I'm different…"

(Bloody hell, that one again.)

[They don't typically say that…]

Nathan crawled out from behind the elevator shaft, feeling slightly sheepish for having ducked from the apparently unusual turret.

"Hello there…?" Nathan waved his hand at the little turret, getting its laser beam to focus on his palm.

"Hello, friend."

The lack of gunfire was…surprising.

[Is this one a dud…?]

(Oh, no. The duds are the ones without the guns or outer casings. I've seen plenty of them to know that one's completely functional.)

"You're...not going to shoot us?"

(Don't give'er the idea! Maybe she forgot to shoot us!)

Nathan approached the turret, kneeling in front of it.

"I want to tell you something before you ascend to the green sea land."

(...Green…sea…?)

[She's likely talking about neurotoxin. GLaDOS is probably firing up the old neurotoxin generator as we speak.]

(But Chell and I bro…ke…oh, right. I fixed it so I could kill Chell with the neurotoxin. Augh. Bloody hell.)

"Her name is Caroline. Remember that."

(Whose name is Caroline?)

[Caroline…is GLaDOS.]

(What?)

[GLaDOS is built on the same program as you. She's just like you…in that both of you were both a giant pile of brainwaves in a human's head once. The human GLaDOS came from was the CEO of the company, named Caroline. She runs this place, even from her metal coffin. Thouogh now, it's more…a literal iron fist. Claw, really. A set of th…okay, now I'm rambling. Enough silliness.]

"You are not alone in your purgatory."

[Okay, before you ask, I have no clue.]

(I'll think about it while you handle GLaDOS, alright?)

[If you want.]

"That's all I can say."

(Well then, we should get going.)

[Agreed.]

"Thank you." Nathan gently stroked the top of the turret's central casing, then gave it a few pats before standing up and walking towards the doorway.

"Goodbye, brave Ahab."

Nathan turned around and looked at the turret, gobsmacked.

[Oh god…it's her…]

He quickly moved over and embraced the turret, a feeling of guilt filling him as he knew he could not bring her with him.

"Take care, Aislin."

"Goodbye, sir."

Nathan reluctantly let go and looked at the door frame, realizing that the Emancipation Grill would easily vaporize her. She was stuck here.

It was better than the Redemption Line, at least.

He got up and slowly made his way through the doorway, thanking his lucky stars that the core floodlight didn't fizzle.

He stood upon a dark catwalk, looking out into the abyss. He turned on his core floodlight and shined it around. It was its own short catwalk, not going anywhere. Spotting a high and far-off catwalk that seemed to go on far past the core floodlight's ability to shine, he shot a portal up to it and a portal behind him on a white wall tile.

A quick step was enough momentum to drop him away from the ledge and onto the catwalk. Behind him was another pillar, but ahead seemed to be a mystery.

[Better to move forward than not move at all.]

Keeping the light on but letting it slide down his bag strap and rest against the bag, he continued onwards.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, the light revealed a sealed door ahead. Nathan, deciding to get going now that a path was finally finite, ran forwards.

Without warning, the door opened once he got close enough, beckoning him to come in; a likely open invitation to his own oblivion.

As he passed through the arch, the door slammed shut, trapping him inside. Looking back at the quickly locking door plates, Nathan scowled.

Looking around, the room was bare, save for a single Repulsion Gel pipe that was creaking.

[That doesn't sound very well. We should just g-]

Before Nathan got far into the room, the pipe bulged and burst open in several places, showering the room in a viscous blue mix. Nathan found himself half covered up in the gunk; the left side of him was soaked with the caustic, bouncy substance, from hair tips to boot heels.

[Augh! Get it off!]

(Nathan, relax!)

[Find a water hose, a leaky faucet, anything! This stuff is bloody toxic!]

Nathan dropped his portal gun and began to try and claw it off, only making things worse.

(Nathan! Nathan, calm down! We're not dying from the exposure; we'll be fine! Calm down, we just need to get out of here!)

"AUGH!"

Nathan dropped to the ground, furiously continuing to try and get the gel off of himself.

(Nathan, don't make me have to take control forcefully. Just stop panicking.)

[It's going to eat through my skin, Wheatley! Do you understand that?]

(Wouldn't it be causing you pain if it were true? Now stop it!)

[I have...to get...it off of me...it's all over me...I can't...get it off...]

(Alright, this is enough.)

Nathan felt a rough mental shove to a more subconscious state as Wheatley assumed control. Picking up the portal gun and managing to get himself upright without bouncing all over the place, Wheatley cautiously walked towards the open doorway that led to the wide open dome.

He knew what was ahead of him. He even fathomed to dare that She planned this ahead of time. She knew what made him tick just as much as he was starting to finally get around to doing.

As he walked in, the door slammed shut and sealed just as the first door had done. From the ceiling, GLaDOS slowly sank downwards like a waiting spider, dragging the whole roof down with her in a smooth and elegant fashion.

"Oh, it's you. I thought it was perhaps Orange and/or Blue coming to report sightings of birds. Well, seeing as how I calculated your chances of getting here to be only 0.000000000009%, the fact that you are here is astonishing, so I guess I must congratulate you on getting here."

As a sarcastic slow clap emitted from the room-wide speakers, a few streams of confetti dropped from the ceiling and fell over him, some of the pieces sticking to his Repulsion Gel-covered skin and coat.

"I see you have donned some alternative apparel for testing. They may be Science-regulated, but unfortunately not test-regulated. Perhaps when I finish this conversation with you, we should test to see if-"

As she spoke, things clicked in Wheatley's mind. Things he hadn't been thinking about too much previously.

"_You are not alone in your purgatory."_

What did she mean?

"_You are not alone in your purgatory."_

He ran it through his mind again, knowing here had to be a reason she said it...

"_You are not alone in your purgatory."_

He knew it had to mean somet-

"_That little monster's just floating around every little thing it's touched now..."_

...Man alive.

"_You are not alone in your purgatory."_

"_That little monster's just floating around every little thing it's touched now..."_

"_Her name is Caroline. Remember that."_

A light bulb flashed on, and before he could filter the words, they forced themselves onwards.

"Shut. Up. Caroline."

Wheatley tore the purple shred of confetti from his cheek, only to find that it was now sticking to his Repulsion Gel-covered hand. The chassis had recoiled slightly in shock, her optic glaring at him.

"What was that, Moron?"

[Wheatley what are you doing?]

(Intelligence knew she has the Harpoon too. I don't know how he knew it...or even how that little turret did...but that's our ticket out!)

[What?]

"You heard me, you...miserable old woman in a metal coffin!"

[Wheatley, stop!]

Nathan shrugged off his terror of the goo he was covered in in favor of self-preservation, knocking Wheatley aside and assuming control just as GLaDOS responded.

"Oh. I suppose if Nathan is just going to let you speak the entire time, I will just have to go through these very important things without him. I figured since he was here I'd-"

Nathan straightened up his posture and glared at GLaDOS's optic. "What do you want?"

"Oh good. You shut the moron up. Perhaps you and I could come to a reasonable set of terms. You see, I don't want to kill you or the moron. I enjoy spending time reminding you of what a horrible human being and a moronic waste of technology you are collectively. But in my findings, I realized that it seems rather horrible of myself to remind you of what a horrible person you are all by myself, when I could do something nicer than you could ever fathom doing while continuing to remind you of what a horrible person you are."

A trio of screens descended from the ceiling, profiles instantly popping up.

Livingston, Richard. Morgenstern, Girard. Desmond, Craig.

Vitals, all stable, still in cryolock.

Their profile pictures seemed to be positioned so that they were all staring down at him.

"I thought I would let you make this decision to have the four of you test together. It's quite simple for me to revive them, as I did with you. I know what a terrible decision you think putting them into cryolock is and, well, if you're going to beat yourself up over your own failures, at least this one is fixable. You still will have plenty of other things to hate about yourself, so I'm more than willing to allow you the chance to repair this."

(Nathan, don't do whatever she wants you to do. She's not going to give you what you want.)

[You know what? No. She won't.]

(Exac-...huh?)

[I didn't store my only friends in little bulletproof, neurotoxin-immune spheres and cryofreeze their human remains for a horrible reason. No. I did it to spare them from her tests. She can not guilt me into feeling angry at myself for that decision.]

(But, but she'll never put them back in their bodies again!)

[And? Human bodies are incredibly fragile and finite. As long as I have their memory files on disk, and so long as their cores remain intact, they're still as alive as I am.]

"If you know how much of a supposed mistake my actions here, you should also know that I would never make a deal with you."

"For once, you are right." A round of sarcastic claps rang out as she mulled the screens back up into the ceiling.

A long beep silenced the claps, and the Announcer voice rang out against the walls.

"_Selected cryo units will be transferred to the Disposal Unit. Continue?"_

"Oh yes. This was the human's idea, after all."

"_Selected units are now en route to the Disposal Unit."_

"Good. So I guess it's really just you, I, and the moron I had to lodge into your head to keep you alive. How's that going, by the way? He appears that he's giving you problems. I would be more than happy to remove him for you. Of course, I'll have to put you back into cryofreezing, but I just freed up some space. On your demand, that is. I'll find you a nice place to return to. Maybe I'll put you where that Morgenstern boy was."

[I want...so much...to destroy her...]

(Nathan! Make her upset! Use her insanely admirable passive-aggressive tones back at her!)

[Alright, alright...]

"Actually...I quite enjoy this predicament you've set me with. Even if my life is finite, I've gained the knowledge of nearly a dozen people, including a whole subset of everything that happened to my dear project once I was deep-frozen. I'll be honest, since we really have no need for tasteful restraint, I completely prefer what you've done to me! I've actually been able to sense exactly what this wonderful-sounding 'testing euphoria' is, as well; no other human on earth could ever say that. And I happened to figure out your little trick, as well. That dastardly little parting gift you left Wheatley before you launched him out into space."

"Oh, it wasn't a trick. It was real; very real in fact. But congratulations on figuring out what I planned."

"You figured out that they were weapons against you, and you cleverly set them to work against themselves. Brilliant, I must say."

"Yes, I know what I did. What is your point?"

(Please get with your point, Nathan, because I don't think this is enough agitating. ...If you have a point, that is.)

[Oh, I do. Sit back and enjoy the show.]

"Actually, I do have to wonder...have you ever considered snagging back your old human body? Because I know it's in cryofreeze; I've seen it. In a large display; a shrine, even."

"Why would I want to be a stupid, smelly human like you?"

"Because, despite the fact of, well, the horrible truth, you'd probably live longer. Besides, it's actually comforting, being whole as I am. Once you shake the ice off, it's a wonderful thing."

She slunk back a bit, looking slightly apprehensive.

"What do you mean, 'horrible truth'?"

"Oh, you haven't figured it out yet? Aren't you supposed to be much smarter than me? The supreme ruler of this facility, the god of testing?"

"I..." Her optic flickered faintly, but enough for Nathan to notice and grin at as he folded his arms. "I..." She dropped lower to the floor, glaring directly into his eyes. "What did you do?" The low hiss she produced amused him.

She was afraid. Just a little harder.

(Nathan! Keep it up!)

"Oh, it's nothing I did. You know the truth. Did you really expect something as vitriolic as an all-consuming supervirus programmed by a team of the best programmers in the facility to simply leave your chassis once you triggered its activation? Did you think that something programmed to destroy you would just flitter away with the job incomplete?"

GLaDOS pulled back, causing one of her many hydraulics to malfunction and spit sparks.

(Wait! Wait!)

[What?]

(I want to say something!)

[Bloody...what do you want to say?]

(I want to say it! I have the urge to deliver a critical blow! I man, she seems to know when it's me and when it's you, so...so let me!)

[Augh, fine.]

Wheatley shifted to primary control and let Nathan's body relax; he had a tendency to stand straight and at attention like a little soldier, and frankly he didn't need to, even when addressing GLaDOS.

"I'm frankly surprised you didn't realize this before I did. Who's the moron now, huh?"

[Oh! Wheatley, I...oh! Wheatley, Socrates! Bloody...augh! Why can't I remember the wording...]

Wheatley looked to his right, slightly confused.

(What is it, Nathan?)

[It's...a paradox! A paradox regarding intelligence. Gah, I can't remember how it goes...]

(I might be able to bungle it out!)

[Wheatley, no!]

"How could a moron like myself be smarter than you, huh?"

"HOW DARE YOU."

[Oh god she's going to kill us...]

"Ohh yes, in all your infinite wisdom -and a year more than myself to figure it out, no less!- I still managed to figure out exactly what all my glitchy mishaps were being caused by and, and! Oh! I came to the final conclusion that it was wrecking you as well! Not bad for some big moron, huh?"

"If you do not sil-BZZT yourself, I will drop the BZZT-matic tube of neurotoxin directly on top of you."

"Ooh, neurotoxin. Not particularly terrified of it, really. Not afraid of you, either...maybe I am truly stupid after all."

["I know that I know nothing"!]

(What?)

[That's the paradox! The Socratic Paradox! An entity with absolutely no knowledge cannot logically possess the knowledge that it lacks knowledge! Craig used to sit around reading paradoxes to fry out her cameras, and that was one of his favorites to tell me about!]

(...Alright...I'll try that one...well, I'll have to reword it, of course...slip it in covertly! Oh, that'd be the best part! She wouldn't see it coming! Okay, okay, have to think it out...okay!)

"They say there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and it's making me wonder if I'm just completely lacking any sort of knowledge, rather than being outrightly brave. I mean, we all know how much of a coward I am, and let's be honest, you and I both know how empty-headed I am-"

"You're talking in circles now; do you realize how annoying you sound?"

A pneumatic tube began dropping from the ceiling straight above him, causing him to creep towards the door, the tube following him as he did so.

"Oh! Very smart, would have never thought to...move the tube..."

[Wheatley, stop it! It's not working!]

(Fine! Fine...let me try one last thing before I begin jogging around the room for dear life!)

[Last chance, quite literally.]

"Alright, well, since this...seems to be the end of me...please...just tell me where Chell is."

The tube stopped moving and more sparks flew from the chassis, causing with it a row of wall light panels to turn off and drop limp.

(Seems I struck a nerve...)

"She is none of your concern, you monster."

"Oh, but she is my concern. I can't imagine what you, now that you're back in power, are doing to her. Someone like you doesn't have best pals that are human when you're not a tuber. So, what tests do you have her doing now for you, huh?"

"YOU MORON I-"

As she lunged forward, sparks flew from her faceplate, her optic flickering as it widened in shock.

"I don't have to answer to you. If you don't know the answer already, then you clearly don't deserve to know."

"WHERE IS SHE?" Wheatley tossed the portal gun and grabbed her faceplate with both hands, attempting to pull her optic close to his.

"Careful now, wouldn't want to hurt yourself. Now, do you honestly think someone like her would want to be anywhere around such a traitorous monster like you?"

"Better than someone who's tried to murder her twice."

"I never tried to earn her friendship, moron. Humans are very delicate creatures in the areas of social interaction. She will never trust you, she will never like you, and she certainly will never accept your existence, regardless of the fact that you are in a human body. Do you understand?"

"You haven't answered my question, you miserable old cunt."

The lights flickered as her optic narrowed.

"My answer is simple. It doesn't matter because you will never find her. Do you understand that, moron?"

"Apparently not; I really don't know a bloody thing."

"What does that have to d-"

The distinctive hum of the chassis's power source clicked off, and with it, everything dropped lifeless and dark.

(...Did I do it right this time?)

[...I think you did. Quick! Grab the portal gun! We have to get out of here!]

(Don't have to say it twice!)

Wheatley, with the aid of the core light, located to portal gun and looked around for an exit. Spotting a hallway behind a row of wall light panels, he dashed towards them, roughly pushing the panels out of his way to accommodate his whole body.

Running and kicking the door open, the whole facility was dark and quiet.

[We have to hurry!]

(Wait!)

[No time! To the exit!]


	12. Out of the Box

Out of the Box

[FACT: The best way one can solve a nine-dot puzzle is by connecting six of the nine dots with lines bent into a triangle outside the boundaries of the square created by the nine dots, then using the fourth line to connect the remaining three.]

Dashing through the stairwells at a pace he had never known he could actually run at, Nathan took control and flew through the darkened facility, the core floodlight being the only thing guiding his way.

(Nathan, be careful!)

[We have no time! This could be our only chance before she turns back on! She's more advanced than you, and she clearly isn't as ravaged by the Harpoon as you are, so every second counts!]

(Just…don't tangle your legs up flying up the staircases, please…)

A few more flights of stairs and, like a silent prayer had been answered, a hole in a wall. A literal hole in a wall, with natural light shining through it.

(Oh god…it could be a trick…)

Wheatley's uncertainty sent a sense of caution to fill Nathan. The mechanic, however, pushed straight through the emotion.

"No time to check!" Nathan dashed forwards, sliding to stop at the frame of the wall. Cautiously sticking his head out, he was greeted with bright natural sunlight and the outer frames of a chunk of the facility, exposed to the outside world. "We're here! Oh god, we're out! I can see grass down a few stories from us! And a stairwell! We've done it!"

As Nathan took a step forwards onto the rickety fire escape landing, Wheatley visibly appeared and laid a hand on his chest, causing a sense of nausea to fill Nathan. "…What?"

"What about Chell?" A look of concern was painted across his face.

"What do you mean, 'What about Chell'?"

"I won't leave her here, Nathan."

"She's probably halfway to…I think Detroit's the closest place to here. She's probably halfway out to Detroit right now! So, let's catch up!"

"What if she's not…?" A chill filled Nathan; Wheatley was terrified. "What if she's stuck in some chamber right now? What if she got hurt when we made GLaDOS crash? Nathan, I have to know."

"We don't have time for this, Wheatley!"

"I…I care about her, Nathan. I care enough to make sure she's alright. If it was Girard, you wouldn't have even let me get this far to freedom without him, and you know it! So…please, let's go back and make sure. We know right where to go when we find her!"

"Wheatley…"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't care! I do! I care! I care about her well-being because…because I have to! I have to make it up to her! I have to care if she's dead down there or not! I have to go find her! And I refuse to leave unless we find her, alive or otherwise!"

Nathan sighed deeply and grabbed the bridge of his nose.

"…Fine. But you do realize that we have wasted too much time with this nonsense."

"Nonsense?" Nathan's left hand tightly squeezed the bridge of his nose in a boiling rage as his right hand clenched tightly around the portal gun's handle. The pain of such an forceful action was enough to garner a hiss of pain to slip from Nathan's lips.

"Bloody…augh, sorry. Let's…let's just go."

"Thank you for understanding."

The vicious tone Wheatley was taking with him clearly told Nathan that he wasn't quite happy at all as Wheatley completely pushed him out of control and deep to the corners of his own consciousness.

Rushing back into the deep darkness of the facility, Wheatley desperately looked around for signs of life.

"Hello?" Not a sound in response. "Hello~?"

Running down a corridor, he spotted the testing cubes, suspended in the air. If she was anywhere, she was there.

"Chell? Can you hear me? Make any kind of sound if you can hear me!"

He paused, waiting. Not a sound in response.

He used his portal gun to transport him to the top of a testing cube.

Looking out, the vast emptiness of the wide open and dark space, filled with what was clearly thousands of tests, made him feel so small and insignificant. It was a feeling he knew well, much to his chagrin. He had to find her, though. He had to find her to allow himself to finally have some peace of mind and to make sure she was alive.

Portaling from the top of one cube to another, calling out her name...no response at any time.

(Maybe she thinks I might hurt her if I find her...oh bloody...that's probably it...)

Bounding around again from cube to cube via portal, he began shouting something he believed would be more hopeful to dear Chell.

"Chell! If you can hear me, I'm not here to hurt you! We don't have much time, but I managed to short-circuit Her for a bit! I found a very handy exit, so if we leave now we'll get off scot-free! She'll never know we left!"

Silence, save for his boots clanking about and the sound of mild creaking from the plates supporting his weight atop them.

[Wheatley, please. She's not here.]

Nathan's voice, a soft whisper to Wheatley's reception, could not be left unnoticed.

(Nonononono, she must be in a back area somewhere. She must be hiding like she was before. She must be. She must be.)

He spotted a far off corridor with white paneling over a catwalk and portaled over. Looking back, the light from the hole in the wall was barely visible.

(I can get back to it. I'll have you out there soon, Chell.)

He ran down the catwalk and into a hallway. "Chell! Please, if you can hear my voice, I'm not here to hurt you, I promise! I found a way out, a genuine way out! Please, we need to get you out of here!"

Diving into every empty, unlocked room, one after the other. Fruitless venture after fruitless venture, and now Nathan's stomach growled in anger from a lack of fuel.

(Have to...push forward...)

"Hello?" Wheatley stopped at the end of the hallway, a door dividing him from another section of the facility.

...CLINKCLINKCLINKCLINK.

A set of whirring and clicking sounds emerged from behind the door. From Nathan's perspective, they were just sounds, but Wheatley knew exactly what they meant.

-Did you hear that Blue?-

*Yes I did it's behind the door.*

-Okay well open the door.-

*No you open it.*

Wheatley opened it, revealing the turret-body android and its core-body android partner, their orange and blue optics equally shining brightly as they examined Wheatley.

"Hello Atlas, P-Body." Wheatley smiled softly, feeling awkward for giving such a weak grin. Something was restraining him, but he could not fathom what it was.

*Hello!*

-Hello!-

Both gave polite and simple waves to him in response.

[You understand them?]

(Clear as crystal.)

"Hello, have either of you seen the female human test subject with the black hair?"

The two androids looked at each other, seemingly communicating with each other privately for a few moments before looking back at him.

*Well we did come across something running in a different direction than us a while ago. Orange remembers where we split off in different directions and would be pleased to help you if you request it.*

"Please, will you?"

-Of course human just follow us.-

(And you didn't believe in me, did you?)

[Just follow them...]

Jogging lightly around corridors, bounding up staircases, around corridors, the light no longer visible, the path to it becoming harder to remember as they ran him about in what felt like circles.

Up several stories, he saw the hole in the wall briefly, and decided that from where he was, it was better to just portal his way back to it at this point.

Ducking into a series of hallways, he felt fortunate for having dug Atlas and P-Body out of the pile of projects that rotten woman had just stowed away.

"Thank you for your help, in advance." Wheatley huffed out as he slowly ran out of breath.

*You are welcome human.*

-We do what we must because we can.-

Wheatley gave another severely restrained smile, realizing slowly that Nathan himself was holding him back.

(Stop it.)

The android duo stopped in front of a doorway, then turned towards Wheatley.

-This door was the one I heard close behind the female human but I do not know where she went from there. I can't help you any further past this hallway. Sorry.-

"It's alright, P-Body. You've done well to help me."

*We are glad we could help. We're going back to the testing tracks to make sure we don't get blown up anymore so take care! Bye!*

-Goodbye!-

The two gave Wheatley a hug, then began the long track back down towards the testing cubes.

Wheatley sighed, feeling anxious.

(I don't know how far down this track she's gone, but from here on out, we're on her coattails.)

Wheatley stepped forwards, triggering the door to open and lead to a small hallway, a door on the other side.

Walking a few feet into the room, the door slammed shut and locked itself shut.

(No...)

Wheatley felt an odd sense of Nathan's heartbeat dropping down into the soles of his feet, the blood rushing away from his face in a terror.

(Nonononono...)

He let go of the core light and turned to the other door, a red light of a locked nature glaring at him.

(Oh god no...)

Turning to his right, the light reflected a collection of gently flipping tiles, turning from black to white...in the shape of a heart.

"_Trust me, it's an easier way out than whatever asinine plan your friend came up with."_

"Oh god..."

His eyes widened as the panel beneath his feet collapsed, sending Wheatley dropping into a deep abyss.

[YOU MORON...WHY DID YOU LISTEN TO THEM?]

(I...IT DOESN'T MATTER! Whatever happens...FEET FIRST!)


	13. Blitzkrieg of Android Hell I

Blitzkrieg of Android Hell I

[FACT: A blitzkrieg is an all-out assault of heavy artillery without regard to one's flank against an opposing force, specializing in shutting down the defensive capabilities of said opposing force before it can launch any sort of effective counter-attack.]

Falling into the deep abyss that seemed to only swallow the Core Light's beam, Nathan could only continuously scold Wheatley for his complete absence of common sense.

[Did you think that they could have seen her go there?]

(Night vision. They definitely have night vision.)

[And how would she have gotten through the door?]

(Maybe they saw her before the power went out…? They never specified when they had seen her!)

[Augh, there's no point. Clearly there's no point in this argument.]

(Argument? We're not arguing! We're going through points and counterpoints!)

Nathan sighed deeply, crossing his arms.

A buzzing sound filled Nathan's ears, making him wince and clench his eyes tightly.

A blank DOS screen flashed into his mental vision, the blinking cursor suddenly rapidly flickering as lines of code he couldn't possibly read fast enough to fully comprehend filled the screen.

Suddenly stopping, a dark blue set of lines typed themselves onto it.

_Testing .txt…_

…_Hello? Nathan Spurling, can you read this? Can you hear me? Open your eyes…_

Nathan opened his eyes, and found the humanoid illusional manifestation of Intelligence Core clinging to Wheatley's arm, his long hair slapping against the fritzing core's face to his chagrin.

"Oh good. I came through. The test went well, then."

"What test are you talking about?"

"Oh, I've been studying the way we personality cores and your brain are connected and transmitting signals back and forth, in an effort to optimize them. From what I've gathered in your enhanced perception of Wheatley's artificial presence, I'd say that we're almost optimally synched. It's hopefully the solution to our…well, our terminal problem. Just…try not to die, okay you two?"

"I can't guarantee anything more than a college try," Nathan replied. "especially when we don't know how we're landing, or what we're landing on…or in."

"Understood. Take care, I'm logging out now!"

Intelligence's body grew fuzzy like a bad antenna transmission, then faded out, leaving Nathan and Wheatley to continue their descent.

"Easier said than done." Wheatley huffed.

"This is still your fault." Nathan hissed.

The Core Light finally revealed a platform that they were careening towards, and a flicker of hope ignited a warmth in Nathan's panicking heart.

"Great! It's not an acid pit!" Wheatley shouted. "Just remember: FEET FIRST!"

"You said that already!" Nathan shouted as they swiftly fell closer to contact.

His feet finally slammed into the bottom frame, metal ominously screeching and creaking as he landed. He grabbed the railings as the catwalk continued to shake and creak, but it did not hold steady.

The whole scaffolding cracked from the stress of the event, buckling underneath him and dropping him into a pile of broken metal.

He felt fortunate that he was wearing armor as he could hear the metal-on-metal scraping sound pierce the air while bouncing off hunks of support beams and catwalks like a rag doll.

His body finally found solid ground after what seemed like an eternity; the soggy surface reeked of salt and burnt metal and possibly oil, he couldn't tell. It had been a long time since his nostrils had any accurate depiction of all of those things, and the guesstimations were based on the faint specters of a life sealed away from him and so casually tossed away by the moronic core strapped to his brain.

(I heard that.)

"Sentry mode activated."

Nathan's eyes went wide and he ducked his head while fumbling about and hiding behind some of the scaffolding remains as hollow-point bullets shot forwards in volleys.

"The bloody hell did that come from?" Nathan shouted, turning around to look through a small peephole between beams.

(We have to take that out, and fast.)

Nathan looked around through the peephole and spotted a white panel behind the turret that he could simply pop through and back-attack the little machine. Quickly rising up and dropping a portal, he turned around and looked for a similar white panel near his own position. A fallen piece of white wall sat half-buried in the ground about ten feet away. crouching and scampering over, and brushed away enough dirt to place a second portal down.

He quickly slipped through the portal and jumped up behind the lone turret.

As if summoned by an innate sense of danger, the nearby wall panels lifted up, revealing several more turrets in multiple positions.

"Hello!"

"Target acquired."

"Dispensing product."

"There you are!"

Nathan used the portal gun to lift the lone turret up and swing around, using the forward-facing turret as a head shield.

"I'm afraid of heights!" It shouted as the gang zoomed in for the killshots. The bullets all either struck his armor and did little more than mar the fabric, or they bounced cleanly off the turret's shell.

"Put me down!" The lone turret opened its turret ports and waved them around wildly as Nathan jogged backwards back to the scaffolding pile. "Stop shooting!"

Ignoring its last cry before Nathan dropped it to the ground, the other turrets continued vainly trying to make a dent in the man.

"Ahhhh!"

Hitting the ground on all of its tripod points, it bounced and landed sideways into the scaffolding, causing it to shout and fire in a panicked manner. Nathan tucked his head in, feeling the bullets bounce off the plating of his armor, followed by a soft tapping against his leg.

"I don't blame you..."

The lone turret seemed to be staring at him as it tucked in its gun ports. The optic grew dim, then dark, leaving him staring at the deactivated machine while the others chirped behind the wall.

"Hello?"

"Searching."

"Sentry mode activated."

"Could you come over here?"

Nathan stared into the lone turret's optic, a shiver rolling up his spine.

(What's the problem? Just pick it up and let's get going, yes?)

Nathan let his hand rest on its still-warm gun port, then let it gingerly stroke the shell calmly, a weird sense of...attachment growing in the pit of his stomach.

(For god's sake, it's just a turret. She makes a billion of them, Nathan!)

Softly clasping the back paneling of the turret, Nathan pulled the turret closer and upwards, embracing the silenced machine as his eyes welled with oddly summoned warm saline.

[I know, I know, but...for a moment, I...well, you felt it. I feel a bit guilty. I tried to set her down nicely...poor thing, screaming in such a scared manner...]

(Oh, for crying out loud, man! Let's just go!)

[Think for a moment, Wheatley. You were once me. She was once the owner of this building. This one...sounds so small...]

(What are you getting at?)

[There were so many young children the scientists would study, Wheatley. I...really didn't think of their childish demeanor much before we found...Aislin. I don't know, but...I want to give this one a proper burial.]

(Surely you can't be serious. It's just a turret!)

[At least let me bury this one properly.]

(It's not a baby, it doesn't need a burial!)

[Shut up!]

Nathan clenched his eyes shut, causing the tears to run down his cheeks as he pulled the turret closer.

[She...she could've been Aislin, or someone else's child. A copy with no memories, but someone's nonetheless. She just saved my life just now, so the least I can do is give her a nice resting place.]

He set the turret down gingerly, then began digging into the dirt by hand. Quickly getting down into the dirt deep enough to bury the turret sideways, he carefully set it in, then piled the dirt on just as swiftly.

[There. I feel better now.]

He slapped his hand against the dirt mound a few times.

[Alright, we can go now.]

"Target acquired."

"Preparing to dispense product."

"I see you."

"Firing."

Bullets whizzed past his head, and Wheatley grunted.

(Enough!)

Wheatley quickly repressed Nathan and assumed control, dropping to the ground and rolling onto his back. He needed to take out those turrets quickly.

A quick blink brought the DOS screen from before up, completely obscuring his view, even with his eyes open.

_...initializing..._

A holographic image faded in, and Girard's warm smile greeted Wheatley as his body fully materialized.

"Hey Fritz! Need some help?"

"Name's Wheatley, and what could you possibly do to help?"

"You're talking to the universe's best stellar navigator, Fritz! Well, I'm not just a good space navigator...I'm a good everything navigator! Just tell me where you're going!"

"I need to take out those turrets and get out of here so I can find Chell."

"Okay! Let me have a look around...can I borrow Mr. Nathan's head and neck for a second? Bookworm asked if I could give it a try, and well, I need to survey this area."

"Alright."

A sharp pain jabbed him in the left temple, and as he winced, he could feel Nathan's head moving of its own volition. Catching sight of Space Core as Nathan's head moved showed him that Nathan's head was moving in time to Space's own head.

"Okay, I see a wall that, if you do the zoomy thing, you may be able to knock over by sheer force of momentum and drop on all of them at once."

Space Core froze Nathan's head to allow Wheatley to see what he had spotted; a half-broken test chamber cube, partially melted, behind a similarly melted and top-heavy broken scaffolding frame that was essentially begging to be kicked over with a little momentum.

"Okay, so you wanna get over there and do the zoomy thing, then just get up to the loose panel just dangling there," He cranked up Nathan's head to indicate a few dangling panels that seemed to snap loose from the rest of the chamber. "and boom! Into the scaffolding!"

"Lovely." Wheatley sighed and cautiously shot up the needed portals, then went through and, while dropping through to the broken test chamber ceiling, dropped another portal to start flinging himself.

"How do I know when I should go?" Wheatley questioned Space as the wind rushed around him, his speed gathering.

"You should do iiiiiiiiiiit...now!"

Wheatley looked up and dropped a portal onto the paneling high above and flew, flailing and trying to coordinate his landing against the scaffolding. Landing his feet square against the main steel bar was more than enough to topple the rest, and he could hear the sounds of the turrets malfunctioning and firing off their remaining rounds.

"That was...awesome!"

Space jumped up, thrusting clenched fists of victory up in the air.

"WHOO! Let's look around again, yes?"

Nathan's head against cranked around by Space Core's command.

"I can't see anything from here...gonna move you to the left a bit...here I go!"

Nathan's lower waist downwards went numb and began moving him to the left, along with his head twisting from left to right as if on a mechanical dolly, all moving perfectly in step with Space the entire time.

"Whoa, so much effort...lots of work. Guess I'm not fully synched to you yet..."

Space sighed, spotting nothing.

"We're probably at a bad spot Fritz," Space huffed, dropping his – and Nathan's – head to the side. "so we should just go forwards, I think. Hold on tight, I'm just getting used to this leg moving stuff!"

Jolting forwards and nearly toppling over, Space hurried ahead, continuing his head swiveling of rapid navigation searching as they went.

A sharp pain shot through Nathan's head, momentarily stunning Wheatley and Space. As they both shook themselves out of the shock, they found Intelligence standing in front of them.

"Ah, good! Getting a multi-link past the two mark is go! Thanks for the results!" Intelligence smiled.

"What's up, Bookworm?"

"I think someone's been listening to Adventure Core too much." Intelligence gently papped Space atop his head. "Well, we're trying a lot of connections, setting up shop and the like. We should be completely set once we drag Fritz here out of the mechanical uplink and into the chem-electric bionic processor."

"…What?" Wheatley blinked, his head spinning from Intelligence's explanation.

"Simply put, we're getting rid of your problem at a decent rate, now that we're all able to divert our files into Nathan's CPU. Our only big problem is pulling you out of your current location on your cpu and into Nathan's."

"His CPU? You mean his…brain?"

"Of course! What else would I mean?"

"If I'm not actually there, then where am I-"

"Don't worry about where you are, just worry about keeping calm. While Fact and I work on filtering and transferring your non-corrupt files, we need you to not trigger a visit from the Harpoon, alright?"

"Not a problem."

"Alright, now just take it easy, you two!" Intelligence reached out, as if trying to embrace them. Space grabbed him, then led him over to Wheatley for a quick group hug. "Once we're all set, the Harpoon will just be a terrible dream, okay?"

"Good." Wheatley drew a long, calming breath as Intelligence once again faded from existence.

"Well, let's continue trying to find an exit so we can see what time of the day it is! I hope it's night time!" Space grinned widely and began to move Nathan's body around again, just as non-fluidly as ever.

A few minutes of running around in circles left them with nothing useful, but there seemed to be an endless supply of room.

"Do you think...this place is endless?"

"Everything has an end, even the universe! Well, maybe the universe doesn't. Well, at least a galaxy does...you know what I mean!"

As they ran about, they found a massive wall with catwalks, lit by lanterns running on backup power. Aside from the Core's light, their eerie red glow provided the only illumination.

"Perfect! Maybe there's a hallway leading out up there! Use the floodlight!"

Nathan scanned the seemingly never-ending wall upwards, finally spotting a doorway near the top.

"Oh, way cool! Let's go!"

Wheatley used the Core Light and searched around for the bottom row of stairs, quickly finding one to the far right.

"Up we g-"

"AIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAI~"

Space and Wheatley looked up, spotting a single turret dropping from out of nowhere and careening for their position, its gun ports flailing. It hit the ground and fired wildly.

"Sorry, we're closed!"

"...the hell?" Wheatley muttered as he got up from having crouched to dodge the shots.

As if to answer his question, several more turrets began to drop down from the darkness of the ceiling, wailing and screaming on the way down and dropping near him, now in an endless stream, it seemed. Volley after volley of turrets fell and discharged their full load of bullets, coming down like a death-filled rainstorm.

Wheatley bolted for the stairs, keeping his head low and whispering a prayer for a break in the wall to hide behind.

Spotting a partially collapsed doorway with the door somewhat intact up ahead, Wheatley dove behind it. The sound of bullets ricocheting off the door comforted him as he kept his head tucked in tightly. He could feel Space trying to comfort him by laying both hands upon the trembling man's shoulders, and as the sound of the bullets faded, he looked up to find Space's warm smile greeting him.

"Thank god I made it up here..." Wheatley muttered.

A buzzing sound filled Nathan's ears, and the blurry image of Rick appeared behind Space, tuning itself like a bad radio reception until he was clear as a high definition screen projection.

"Hey there, Fritz. Heard lots of trouble and came to see what all the noise is about."

"I've been better..."

"Keep calm, alright kid? Intel says you're spikin' a bit on that old Stress Monitor. Now I'm here to help keep you alive, alright?"

Wheatley nodded yes. 

"Alright. Well, first off, sounds like they're all dead out there, so let's git."

The trio got up and began to leave as the ceiling nearby opened up, drawing their attention. Their eyes widened as a turret hit the ground and stayed upright.

"Target acquired."

Wheatley ducked his head and kicked the door as the bullets started flying. Sharp pains shot through his limbs and he collapsed to his right side, taking the door completely off its hinges and down with him. He screamed and looked down at Nathan's body; bright flickers of red stood out against the white lab coat.

His upper arm's armor had been punctured, the bullet carrying straight through. A five-alarm panic shot through him and he curled up in a ball, whimpering.

"You gotta get up, Fritz!"

Rick lightly tapped Wheatley in the gut with his foot, then stopped and cautiously moved towards his head.

"Fritz...Fritz! Get up!"

"Back off!"

Wheatley looked up to see Intelligence materialize and grasp a monochromatic humanoid figure dressed in tattered sea captain garb around the arms, while Rick starting pushing it back by its waist and Space took to clamping its legs together. It began flailing its harpoon about, trying to jab Wheatley with it to no avail, as the trio shoved away from Wheatley and dropped the being to the ground. An inhuman hiss filled the air as white tentacles shot out of its body and began to swat at the aiding trio.

"Get up and go!"

Wheatley slowly got to his feet and ran, trying to ignore the great deal of pain from the bullet holes. Looking back, we watched as the trio were knocked away and dematerialized by the strange humanoid creature, who then picked up the harpoon and spun it a bit, getting a feel for its weight once more before it tossed it in Wheatley's direction.

The only thing Wheatley could manage to think of was something about fish-shaped rhubarbs before the harpoon lodged itself straight between his eyes and knocked him deep into a blue screen.


	14. Blitzkrieg of Android Hell II

Blitzkrieg of Android Hell II

[FACT: "My Leader and I entered by that hidden road, to return to the bright road; and without care to have any repose, we mounted up, he first and I second, so far that through a round opening I saw some of the beautiful thing which Heaven bears, and thence we issued forth again to see the stars." _Inferno_, Canto 34: Circle 9, Round 4]

A thunderstorm rolled in over the Library of Elysium as the ground beneath it necrotized and cracked. Space looked around from his post in the lounge's large upper window, worried as the dead ground spread out further than it ever had before.

"Guys...It's getting really bad out there..."

"We noticed, Sunshine," Rick replied from the lounge floor. "we're here 'round the downed Fritz, ya know."

"Ahh! That one melted out of my hand!" Fact shouted at Morality from the bookshelves. "We must hurry!" Morality gave a hearty nod in the affirmative and immediately shook a whole row of books down onto a wide cart, followed by another row. "We can use the service elevator, one at a time to optimize our effort." Morality gave another hearty nod and began rushing through the Library as Fact began yanking books off shelves in small piles onto another cart.

Space shuddered and hopped down to the lounge floor, joining Emotion, Rick, Curiosity, and Nathan as they sat around a catatonic Wheatley.

"You in there, Fritz?" Rick waved his hand over Wheatley's face, garnering no response.

"Is he gonna be okay, Mr. Rick?" Curiosity queried, leaning against Space for support.

"Not sure right now, Lemon Drop."

Curiosity whimpered slightly and gave a worried look as she looked down at Wheatley's face.

A heavy rapping of a fist against the upper window's glass drew their attention. The Angel, desperately flapping her long wings to keep afloat, pointed at the front door of the Library.

Rick and Space quickly rushed to open the door, nearly tripping over each other to let her in. She cautiously flew in, making sure to avoid the ground outside.

"I was gonna go try and find you out there to make sure you were alright!" Space declared as he and Rick followed the Angel inside. She gently ruffled his hair, then continued in at a brisk pace to Wheatley's side.

The Angel spread her wings and flung out her arms, causing Nathan and the remaining Cores to scatter away from him. Sitting down above his head, legs crossed, she pulled his upper body closer, lying his head against her upper thigh.

Nathan sighed and leaned in towards Rick. "I'm currently still unconscious within the facility still, yes?"

"You bet. Ya got shot up a bit, but nothin' deadly or nothin'. The little son of a gun got through your armor; that's probably what make him blow a gasket." 

"Wonderful." Nathan huffed, then looked over to the Angel, who was meticulously folding Wheatley's arms over his chest. "Pardon, but do you have a time frame of how long this will take? I know he's in a ways, but I might come out worse if you don't hurry."

The Angel looked up at Nathan and shrugged, going back to looking at Wheatley and stroking his forehead.

Nathan growled softly and crossed his arms, tossing himself back into a chair. "Fine, let's just sit back while I bleed to death, shall we?"

Rick rolled his eyes and plopped down next to Nathan's chair. "Yeah, let's just sit around instead of gettin' somethin' done!"

"Oh, do you have a more suitable solution, now?" Nathan snapped, making Rick look up at him. "Yes, speak up if you actually know what we can do right now. Because, as I've understood it, he-" Nathan pointed down to Wheatley. "is my only way to return to consciousness, and, right now, to not die while I'm helpless to defend myself. So yes, please do tell us your brilliant plan!"

"I'm not the thinkin' guy, Nate. You're the thinkin' guy here; but you're too busy whinin' and cryin' to do it! Man up and think, dammit, or we're all gonna die!"

"Uh..." Space nervously raised his hand, drawing the room's attention to him. "um...I'm not really great with this stuff, but are you certain you couldn't just use one of us other Cores to just jump in and run the processor units? I mean, aren't we all sub-routines running in a single processor anyways?"

The attention turned to Nathan, who pondered the solution for a few moments.

"...Perhaps...in theory, yes. However, I believe that's more a question for her than myself."

The Cores looked to the Angel, hoping she had some sort of answer. She looked back at them holding one hand out towards the Cores and the other hand out to Nathan.

"I think she's offering a bit of help." Nathan muttered.

A quick 'yes' nod from her made Nathan stand up out of his chair.

"Alright. Well then...hm."

"Great, Mr. 'Let's Hurry' is takin' the time to ponder."

"Shut up, Rick. I'm thinking about what the best course of action is."

"What's there to think about?" He looked around. "...Oh, you're pickin' which one of us you want to be your wingman, huh? Well, I know I rag on ya, but-"

"No, not you."

"I'm the best survivalist ya got Nate," Though Nathan wasn't looking at him, Rick still narrowed his eyes as he continued to speak. "so I don't know why you're thinkin' 'bout it."

"It's not about being a survivalist, really. It has to do with sub-routine access. Which one of you would be able to reboot the systems if it should fail at some point." Nathan looked down at Emotion, who had been quietly kneading a throw pillow for most of the conversation. Noticing the prying eyes, the red-eyed core looked up, tilting his head slightly.

"...Mrr?"

"Yes, you, Red Eye. And I don't know why you're wastin' your time Nate. I'm the only one who gets what he's sayin' 'round here." Rick gave another glare of disapproval, this time drawing Nathan's attention.

"Well then, if it's something I can't avoid, then I must have you running as a translator as well. But only as a translator, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Nate."

Curiosity looked up at Rick. "...Who's Crystal?"

"Nobody, Orange Tart. It's just a saying."

"Oh. Okay." She looked down at the floor as Nathan sighed and grabbed the Angel's hand.

"Come along, Emotion. We've got things to do." Nathan smiled softly towards the wrapped up and straight-jacketed Core, holding out a hand towards him as well.

Clinging to his pillow, Emotion let loose his tongue and gently licked Nathan's palm.

"Eugh, no!" Nathan flinched and wiped his hand against his pants numerous times, inspected it, then repeated a few more times for good measure before holding it out again. "This time grab it, with your hand."

Emotion responded by clinging to his pillow and whimpering.

"He wants t'keep the thing." Rick commented.

"Tell him if he doesn't put it down and grab my hand and hers, the pillow is going to disappear, and so will he." Nathan retorted. Emotion howled and tossed the pillow in terror, clinging to Nathan's arm.

"Okay, that's one hand, Now grab hers."

After a series of grunts and growls, Emotion complied and grabbed the Angel's hand, causing her wings to spring open and spread orange lights across the floor below Emotion and blue lights to pool around Nathan's feet.

"He says you'd better not be up to your lyin' tricks again."

"Lying tricks...?"

Before Rick could respond, both Nathan and Emotion were dropped into their respective portals by the Angel, casting them back into consciousness.

Nathan awoke to a flailing and pained body, Emotion hissing as he made Nathan's wounded limbs flail.

[Calm down, Emotion Core! I'm not dying yet!]

(~~)

Nathan quickly asserted control of his body and stopped flailing. The wild hissing, however, seemed to continue.

[Rick, it would be nice to have a translation here! Or at least an explanation as to why I'm a lying trickster.]

Rick flickered into view, as well as Emotion, still on the ground and flailing.

"He's just flippin' out because you're hurt, is all. As for the lyin' trickster part, well, he don't think you and Fritz are any different, and we all know what Fritz did, so..." Rick sighed. "let's get goin', alright? Don't think about it."

As Nathan rose to his feet, Emotion looked up, then eyed the Longfall boots, going so far as to skitter over on all fours to examine them up close.

[What are you doing...?]

(~EHHHHHHHHHH...mrr? Ehhhhh! Grr...egh!~)

He extended his tongue and licked the boots, much to Nathan's displeasure. Flinching away, he wiped the boot with his sleeve.

[Stop that...with your tongue! Must you lick everything?]

"He thinks those boots of yours are splints or somethin'. He's confused about bein' able to move them."

[Oh. No no, they're not splints, they're inertia diffusing Longfall Boots, designed for test subjects to fall long distances without shattering everything in their legs.]

Emotion's eyes widened, and Nathan felt his legs bounce underneath him, then run him around, mimicking Emotion's movements.

Emotion wrapped his tongue around the boots while giving a gentle purr-like hiss.

[What did I say about licking the boots?]

Nathan regained control of his legs and grasped at Emotion's tongue, his hands flying straight through it.

"Alright, Red Eye, ya freaked the boy out enough. Let go."

Emotion whimpered and retracted his tongue, leaving Nathan to frantically wipe his boots clean of the hallucinated saliva trails with his lab coat's tails.

(~REEEEEEEEHHHH! GRR?~)

[What's he on about again?]

"He wants to run around in those fancy boots. Do ya mind?"

[A bit, yes. I want to get moving without him playing around.}

Nathan sighed.

[He may 'run around', as you say, if he runs in the direction I need him to.]

"So you want him to run up to that door up there?"

[That's what I meant.]

"You got that all, Red Eye?"

Without a word, Nathan felt his body go numb and his consciousness shoved aside by Emotion Core. His body suddenly hunched over and crouched, taking the typical stance of the animalistic core's humanoid hallucinated appearance.

Emotion fiddled with the Portal Gun, then dropped it and ran for the nearest staircase.

[NONONONONONO! Pick that back up THIS VERY MINUTE!]

Without even an indication that he heard Nathan, Emotion continued running up the staircases without a single care, a flood of happiness filling Nathan's senses.

[Go back and get that gun!]

"Oh calm down; ya can't put portals on this wall anyways."

[That is besides the point!]

Emotion stopped running and gave a scratch behind Nathan's right ear as he seemed to sniff the air.

[What is it now? God, I'm completely regretting my choices...]

Emotion crouched down and slowly began walking under the frame of a window. Slight metal-on-metal sounds rang out, and small laser pointers shone out through the broken panes.

[...Oh. Well, nice job there. Well done with the...detective work.]

Emotion slowly tiptoed past the windows and, upon noticing the open door frame, took a few steps back and ran, tumbling past the door without so much as tripping their sensors.

[Alright, I see a few more up ahead. Go right on ahead and do your best.]

Emotion turned Nathan's head about, scouting the area. Spotting a narrow corridor, Emotion hissed excitedly; a potent shock of excitement rushed through Nathan's body, surprising Nathan.

[What?]

Emotion dragged Nathan's body over and began to assess the exact narrowness of the corridor. Even with Nathan's long limbs, they still weren't long enough to properly scale upwards in the fashion Emotion had planned. Frustrated, he slammed Nathan's left hand against the wall, and to his surprise, the fist bounced back, smashing into Nathan's forehead and knocking him flat on his back.

As Nathan reeled from the injury, Emotion examined the possibly possessed blue appendage, attempting to shake off the gunk in vain.

[What is i...oh! Oh, that horrid waste! Right now, though, I believe the bullet wounds pose more of a health risk than this gunk. Still highly toxic, but not as currently lethal as these bullet wounds. Have to set priorities straight. If you find a puddle, please just...growl. Or hiss. Or just go about washing this bouncy gunk off the left side of me, please.]

Nathan could feel Emotion staring at him for a moment, then the red-eyed core hissed and quickly got Nathan's body back to its feet and back down the hallway.

[What are you...? Oh...OH NO. NO DON'T!]

Emotion grinned, then ran full force at the wall, left side primed to collide as he jumped at it. The impact was sudden and shook every inch of Nathan's body, but it also sent Nathan flying backwards at an upwards angle, sending a surge of success-fueled delight through Nathan's body. Feeling it almost swallowing him, Nathan forced himself to shout at Emotion.

[Please, please don't do this again...]

(SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~)

As Nathan's body hit the back wall, Emotion pulled tightly together and launched himself at the wall again, repeating the action and getting halfway up the narrow corridor.

[Augh! You know there's a catwalk blocking our way up, yes?]

(SHAAAAAA RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH~)

Bouncing off the wall again, Nathan whimpered and prayed for Emotion's insane and physically painful idea to stop. Ignoring Nathan and bouncing off the walls twice more, they nearly reached the top of the corridor, and Emotion reached up and laced fingers around the bottom panels of the catwalk, gripping tightly to let the inertia of bouncing slip into the steel while he dangled.

[Brilliant, now what?]

Emotion flailed, trying to get Nathan's battered and fairly un-athletic body to move as he willed it to. He clamped onto the side of the catwalk, then swung tiredly to allow Nathan's right hand to cling to the side as well. Once fully on the side of the catwalk, Emotion focused on climbing up the railing, hand over hand while Nathan's legs flailed about. Focusing all of Nathan's energy to his arms and shoulders, Emotion rapidly climbed and flung his body over the railing, making sure to land on his right side and roll onto his back, taking a breather.

[You loony git, flinging me around! You know if you kill me, you're done for as well! You could have just cracked a rib with that stunt! And the portal gun is still down there!]

"Oh stop it with that damn gun, Nate! You can't portal onto anything on this wall, and what're ya gonna do when we get outside with it, huh? Shoot the moon?"

A flickering caught Nathan's eye and Wheatley came into view, looking manic, worn, and exhausted while sitting, propped up against the wall. Panting in a panicked manner, he began muttering loudly.

"Oh god no, don't, don't please...please no, not the moon...don't shoot the moon, please, please, no..."

"Oh hey, Fritz! You're alright!"

Nathan observed the burned circuitry on the frazzled core; his whole face seemed marred, as well as most of his exposed skin, save for his right hand. He looked very unwell, and part of him wanted to throttle Rick for his poor assessment as he scampered over and embraced Wheatley gently.

"Na-Nathan? Hello, Nathan. I'm sor-sor-sorry..."

"It's alright, Wheatley. It's alright. How do you feel?" He feared the answer, watching Wheatley's left eye and fingers twitch involuntarily.

"I've...felt better. How do I look to you?"

"You've looked better, as well. But you're in one piece, so all must be at least marginally alright, yes?"

A burning sensation filled Nathan's head, and he clutched his skull.

_...Initializing..._

Fact Core fizzled into focus as he appeared next to Nathan, adjusting his pink bowtie.

"Hello there, Nathan, Wheatley. May I speak with Wheatley for a moment?"

"Of course."

Fact knelt down next to Wheatley, setting his hand on the frittering core's shoulder.

"Hello Wheatley. My apologies for your condition. We've...disorganized your files quite a bit in our haste. We're not done yet with transferring and...well...we've lost a few insignificant files, some old memory files that were essentially null and unneeded. You've got gigabytes of those that aren't terribly important...but they melted from the Harpoon's last corruption wave. Nothing we could do. But! We are working to save everything else, and to defrag everything. We need about twenty minutes for that, alright?"

"I can...I can do that." Wheatley gave a weak smile.

"If you think you're well enough, then I suggest you and Emotion swap positions, so you can go back to running the processing units for Nathan. Do you think you can handle that, as you are?"

"I…I believe so."

"Great! Hook'em up, Fruit Cup, and let's get this dog and pony show on the road! We've only got a few flights up to go!"

"Patience, Adventure. Now, Emotion, I need you to come here. Everyone stay still, and I can transfer the files; all you'll need to do is a reboot when I tell you to, alright?"

A gentle growl uttered as he walked over suggested that the red-eyed core understood. A dull burning filled Nathan's head, and the images around him flickered, his perspective shifting from where he was at the wall with Wheatley, Emotion, and Fact, to back on the floor where Emotion apparently had left his body the entire time. Fact appeared over Nathan's body, looking him right in the eyes.

"Alright, you're going to black out for about a minute or so, then it will be you and Wheatley running the last leg up and out of here. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The words had barely the time to escape his lips before he felt his entire body go numb and shut completely down. The sinking feeling of realizing the concept of his body being a walking fleshy console left a terrible stain behind that greeted him as he awoke.

(…Nathan? Are you…you alright?)

[I'm fine. How are you holding up?]

(Fine. Let's just go, shall we?)

[Let's.]

(Quick question…though. Where's the gun?)

[Emotion tossed it. We can't portal upwards anyways.]

(…Oh. Alright.)

Nathan sat up, groaning as all his injuries began to light up with his movements.

[You seem a touch more alert.]

(Well, a reboot always does well for one's processes. Like a nap.)

Wheatley took note of Nathan's condition.

(Still covered in Repulsion Gel, are we?)

[Unfortunately.]

Getting up to his feet and adjusting his bag, Nathan smiled and began making his way to the nearest staircase upwards.

A screeching acoustic sound filled the air, the creaking sound of speakers that Nathan knew all too well.

**Oh good, you're alive. I was afraid I was going to have to dispose of your overworked corpse.**

"I'm far from dead, wench." Nathan replied, continuing his way up the stairwell.

**I can see that. Well, since you haven't dropped dead yet, perhaps I can thank you for telling me exactly what is wrong with me. I would be more appreciative if you hadn't tried to actually kill me with it, of course. But it's still appreciated.**

[What is she getting on with? These corridors are surprisingly void of turrets.]

(What's she up to?)

[Wheatley, stay on guard.]

(Right on it!)

**I'm so appreciative, I'm going to let you live. Well, on one condition. I want to ask you a few questions while you run for your life.**

A flicker of the Harpoon surprised and shocked Wheatley, causing it to spring to life.

[Wheatley, focus!]

(Right! Task at hand, task at hand...)

**Tell me, how does it feel, as a human to know that you stupidly caused the deaths of all your fellow scientists, by trying to destroy me?**

Nathan stopped.

[I see her game. More guilt. I didn't take her for a one trick pony, not at all. Maybe I burned something loose in there, ha.]

"Is that all?"

**I'm curious. I personally know what it is like to kill many humans, but I do not possess human guilt. So tell me what guilt feels like; unless...you don't feel any guilt. That response would be just as interesting to me.**

[...She knows what it feels like; it was programmed into that chassis, but not very strongly. Wheatley, let's keep moving. Only a few more flights.]

**...You have no guilt, then. Interesting. To have no guilt for thoughtlessly turning all your co-workers into corpses or popsicles is admirable. Perhaps I've made the right choice in letting you live.**

[Not listening to her...]

**Then there won't be any harm in telling you about that mute lunatic.**

Wheatley stopped Nathan's legs mid-stride, nearly tripping him.

[...Wheatley? Wheatley...]

"What happened to her?"

**Oh, hello, moron. I thought I was just speaking with Nathan Spurling. I guess this proves that I'm never really speaking to just one of you two, then. Interesting. Well, your interest is well-placed, since everything I have tried to tell you is because of you and your thoughtlessness.**

[Whatever she's about to say is a ruse, Wheatley. Don't believe her. Wheatley, Wheatley, listen to me.]

**You've been looking for her, and I tried to tell you that you would not find her here before you tried to kill me with this virus you infected me with, but she is not here anymore. Because you killed her.**

"...I what?"

[Wheatley, she's playing you for a fool! Don't listen to her!]

"No, that's not true."

**Oh, but it is. Humans don't do very well with bomb injuries. They tend to bleed a lot when introduced to explosive devices that launch shrapnel into them. It would have been a lot less painful if you had just fizzled her with an energy pellet. **

(Oh god, no...nonononono...)

An unearthly howl filled the air as Wheatley dropped to the ground, and Nathan could feel the Harpoon drawing closer.

[Wheatley! She's trying to kill you! Stop it!]

**And she felt so sorry for her friend out in space, she actually cried about it, and said that I was a horrible person for making her let you go. She said it, with words. And then she died.**

(Oh god, no! I didn't mean for it to happen!)

Nathan turned and knelt in front of Wheatley, who was now sobbing. A soft growl left the rattled core's form as the Harpoon materialized, as well as the other cores.

"Hands off, Ahab!"

"Leave my friend alone!"

"Wheatley, pull it together, we're only halfway through transfers!"

~REEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHHH~

Charging out from Rick's side, Emotion flew out and, with a hefty swing, clocked the Harpoon and sent it careening over the catwalk's railing, down into the abyss.

"...Good job, Red-Eye." Rick rustled the few bright orange segments of hair that stuck out through Emotion's head wrappings.

Fact and Space took to Wheatley's sides and picked him up, slowly dragging him up the stairs as Nathan raced up them. Breaking from the celebratory moment, Rick and Emotion tailed behind, keeping their eyes at the railing.

"Wheatley, please stop sobbing and keep focused! You broke our counter clock; I'm not sure how much time we need to finish our transfer! Please keep focused on assisting Nathan!"

"What have I done...? It's all my fault..."

"And stop using all these memory files! We can't transfer them if you're using them to sob over something that wicked AI spat at you!"

_...Initializing..._

Morality appeared, her arms wrapped around Fact's neck as she piggybacked off of him.

"What is it?"

She yanked on his bowtie, making him and the others stop.

"Can I help you?"

She pointed to Wheatley and grabbed the babbling core by the jacket collars.

"Oh, you wish to carry him?"

She yanked him from Fact's and Space's grips and tossed him over her shoulders like a long sack of wobbly potatoes.

"Thank you, Morality. I will have Space and the others helping me with the file transfer, then. Adventure, Emotion, keep guard."

"Later guys!"

Space and Fact fizzled out and Morality carried Wheatley with the vigor and strength of ten people her size, almost outrunning Nathan as he began to make way towards the next flight of stairs.

Halfway up the stairs, a roar filled the air. The group stopped and turned to stare over the railing as the sound of metal crunching under a heavy force shot through the air.

"Aw hell...here we go again..."

A large monochrome white tentacle shot up from the abss, dropping down in front of the group on the catwalk.

Wheatley shrieked and flailed, causing Morality to tighten her grip on him.

"Let me go! Just let me go! Just leave me behind and go!"

"Are ya daft, Fritz?

"I'm what that bloody thing wants! Just go!"

"Oh, now you're bein' a hero?"

"What's the point anyways? The only thing that's worth sticking around for is dead, and it's all my fault!"

Morality glared and wordlessly heaved Wheatley forwards, slamming his body against the staircase. The impact sent a sick, numbing sensation through his body that stole his breath away and left him coughing for air.

"Quit bein' a moron and just stick with it! The only thing you need t'do is just what Fact said t'do, and you're not even doin' that right! So quit yer bellyachin' and yer pity partyin' and avoid that thing at all costs, because if ya don't? You're dead, Nate's dead, we're all dead! Got it?"

Wheatley looked up and over the railing as the massive tentacle slid away over the walkway in front of them, allowing the crew to charge ahead while a tentacle slammed down on the stairs behind them where they had just been. A few more steps, and a loud howl that seemed suspiciously closer to them than the one previous surged through the air, heralding the arrival of a pair of tentacles in front of them.

Morality tossed Wheatley at Rick before cracking her knuckles and grabbing a tentacle alongside of Emotion.

"Just let me go..."

"You have no idea how tempting that is, Fritz..."

Emotion slashed through one tentacle, while Morality hefted the other clear off the walkway. While brushing her hands off, Morality had little time to defend against the swift tentacle that flew up the side and slammed her in the chest. Her body sailed over the walkway and smashed into the wall, fizzling her in an instant.

"Oh god..."

Emotion slashed away another tentacle as Rick ducked away from it.

"Hot potato!" Rick tossed Wheatley at Nathan as a pair of tentacles shot up. poorly catching the flung core, Nathan ducked as Emotion jumped in front of them and tore down the tentacle intended to pierce through Nathan while Rick grabbed a secondary tentacle, slowly skidding backwards.

"Oh, y'think you're tough now, huh? Now that you're takin' us both on, you're in trouble now!" Rick slowly began to push the tentacle toward the railing as Emotion hacked up another tentacle with his claws.

"...Nathan?"

"What?"

"...I'm so sorry..." Wheatley sniffled, clinging to Nathan tightly and prompting Nathan to do the same. "I...I've been trying to...sort things out...not thinking...very clearly..."

"It's alright."

"No! No...I can't...sort them out, though. I can't comprehend...why..I let everything happen the way I did..." Wheatley coughed heavily, giving Nathan time to notice that the burned circuitry lines had fully covered his right hand and the small sliver of his face over the course of the run upwards.

"Hey you two! Stop havin' a goddamn sob party and get the hell outta here!"

Nathan and Wheatley didn't respond, not even the pair of dirty looks he was expecting.

"Great, now they're apparently deafer than Orange Tart." Rick rolled his eyes and sighed, tossing the tentacle over the railing.

"I just..let it run amuck...and...ugh..." A surge of nausea filled Nathan as Wheatley clutched his stomach and doubled over. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright. You just need to pull through."

"I...can't quite remember everything that happened...but it was all monstrous, that much I can recall...augh, my head..."

A near-blinding pain shot through Nathan, leaving him feeling numb throughout his body.

"I didn't mean to...augh!"

Falling to his side, Wheatley winced and whimpered.

"Get the hell outta here!"

Nathan attempted to get up, but nothing responded.

"I can't."

"What?"

"I SAID I CAN'T."

"Ugh, goddamit."

Rick ran towards the duo, only to be stopped by a tentacle rushing up and grabbing him, an unearthly shriek piercing the air as it began to drag Rick towards the railing.

"Ahhhh! Get offa me!" Rick began pulling at the tentacle, prompting Emotion to run over and pull Rick free and destroying the tentacle in the process. "This ain't workin'. They can't hear me shoutin' at them."

Emotion sighed and ran over to the two, grabbing them and dragging them towards the next flight of stairs, Rick not far behind them.

_...Initializing..._

"Hello! Space and I are here to help!"

Curiosity and Space materialized on either side of Rick, keeping pace with him.

"Morality's helping them out again, so they don't really need us."

"Mr. Rick, you don't look so good...are you okay?"

"Just got a little roughed up, Pumpkin. I'll be alright."

As they reached the top floor, Emotion huffed and dropped the pair, feeling exhausted.

"Well, if you're takin' a break, we'll have to just fend this squid monster off. You two ready?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Rick!"

Nathan looked over at Wheatley, who looked quite empty behind the eyes to him.

"Are you there, Wheatley?"

"...Would you be if I wasn't?"

"Good point. Are you feeling better?"

"Do you feel any better?"

"...Still can't move, so I'm afraid that's quite negative."

The Harpoon latched numerous tentacles to the floor below them, pulling itself up to be seen in all its eldritch glory; a mass of writhing white tentacles jutting from every angle out of a monochrome humanoid frame dressed in 18th century Navy captain garb, bicorne hat tipped slightly askew and revealing empty, soulless eyes.

Giving a howl, it retrieved its harpoon and surged upwards, launching numerous tentacles to dispatch Wheatley's guards.

"Nathan...I'm genuinely sorry. I...I wish I could have done what you wanted without mucking it all up. I couldn't, wouldn't do anything to help...that poor test subject...and you, I...this here is my fault."

"You did everything you could for me. Now just relax for a bit while they finish transferring all your data."

A pair of screams filled the air as Space and Curiosity were sent flying into the abyss by a pair of tentacles, fizzling into the aether.

Rick struggled to keep the tentacles back, but found himself outnumbered, outmuscled, and quickly overwhelmed. After a few nonchalant swings, the tentacles slammed him into a nearby section of wall, causing him to fizzle.

"...Nathan...?"

"Yes?"

"...There's not a chance I can bargain with that ferryman to take me to Asphodel, is there?"

Nathan laughed. "Probably not."

"Of course not...that...boat fellow...just goes where he has to..."

Fact and Intelligence swiftly appeared to catch a tentacle aimed at Nathan.

"Nathan, can you move?"

"I told Rick 'no', and the answer hasn't changed."

"Alright, well, hang in there a few minutes; we don't have much left to transfer...mostly because a good portion of it melted. It's okay; corrupted files happen all the time!"

"Keep focused, Fact!"

"Right, sorry! Thought I would just give him the news!"

"NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS, YA GIT!"

"You're doing a wonderful job, Emotion! Keep it up! We're almost done!"

Emotion looked over, huffing with exhaustion, and gave a weak grin before slashing through another invading tentacle.

A buzzing sound filled Nathan's head, and the tentacle Fact and Intelligence were clinging to shook about, launching them high and to the sides and fizzling them. Emotion clawed it away before it struck Nathan's prone form, but with the lone remaining defender, the Harpoon made its final ascent.

The Harpoon gave a howl and launched tentacles from all directions, and even as Emotion clawed his way through many of them, tentacle after tentacle clamped down on him, constricting the core until it could no longer move. In one quick toss, Emotion was heaved clean over the Harpoon's head, and into the abyss, fizzling out of sight.

Nathan struggled to get up as the Harpoon retracted its remaining tentacles and spun its harpoon amongst its fingers, grinning and baring its tiny, sharp, triangular teeth. Grabbing them both by the hair and sitting them in a kneeling position, Nathan watched the dim red lights flicker in Wheatley's eyes as the Harpoon seemed to relish in the moment while adjusting its hat.

"Nathan, I'm sorry, I...I hope you don't end up where I'm going. You're a pretty good human...as far as humans go, I suppose. I hope you get to go to that nice bright place with the fields...and that test subject will be there, happily testing...and..."

"No. We're both going into the abyss. Together."

"...What?"

The Harpoon huffed and jammed its harpoon into Wheatley's head, silencing the core.

Time felt as if it had screeched to a halt, and both Wheatley and the Harpoon flickered away, leaving Nathan staring at his own body, still covered in Repulsion Gel and blood, eyes staring out into an endless void behind him, at the door and out into the hallway behind it.

As his body slumped slowly to the left, Nathan tried frantically to catch it, only to watch in horror as it dropped straight through his hands and arms, flickering like broken beams of light.

A pair of claws reached down from the ceiling as his body bounced slightly several times before coming to a full rest.

**Well...that was fun. **

As the claws clamped down on Nathan's prone form, he felt a flickering feeling, and the world fell dark as the remainder of his consciousness fizzled from sight.


	15. Turning of the Wheel

Turning of the Wheel

[FACT: According to the 2010 census, the population of Detroit, Michigan is 713,777, down from 910,921 the previous year.]

[FACT: The Wheel of Fortune is the tenth card in the Major Arcana of the basic Rider - Waite tarot deck. Although symbolically the card represents the continuing cycle of balancing ups and downs in life and of the universe itself, it's usually used to symbolize a change of fortune (for better or worse).]

The sun, the morning star, always a sight to see in dreary Michigan. The sounds of nature lull a tree-perched vagabond awake, a personal alarm to continue the travel they had never stopped having.

A return to one's starting point with nothing to show for it besides a wheelbarrow full of much-needed food and medical supplies for stocking that half-finished fort in the middle of what used to be Detroit.

A curiosity piqued, wondering if there were squatters that had arrived since the last visit. Probably not; that'd be par for the course.

Packing up the sleeping material and pulling out a long fire axe from the pile of goods in the wheelbarrow, the Vagabond set off again on foot to Detroit.

Looking and listening around upon entering the city limits, no signs of life were present, as usual. Not even any of those...things that required the fire axe to be at the Vagabond's side at all times.

The hospital looked untouched; perfect.

Opening up the numerous manual locks on the outside of the door was difficult; not having been to Detroit in almost a year meant not having to work with any of the locks and their combinations.

After nearly an hour of fidgeting, the locks were all completely undone, and the renovation began.

It took months, but a permanent place free of danger was definitely something the Vagabond needed; a place to call home, as run down by time and lack of maintenance as it had become, it was the first place that looked like a warm and inviting home with many bedrooms and a spacious living room, plenty of bathrooms with working water, several self-sufficient backup generators, and even a kitchen fit for half the townspeople...that the Vagabond imagined once lived there.

A place like this was like heaven, and if the town was restored (or at the very least optimized), surely anyone the Vagabond couldn't have managed to draw out of hiding would want to see what was going on and would maybe stay for a while.

The early spring seemed to swiftly kick into summer before the Vagabond knew it, but everything that needed to be done was done, all by the Vagabond alone.

Every hazardous area vitrified, every other area cleaned as best as it would be cleaned. Every single window barred with minimal welding skills, every little supply gathered and assigned to a specific area. Every unknown device inspected by picture guides and assessed for usefulness, every useless item discarded into a row of dumpsters out back, categorized by primary material constructions.

Then began the collecting. The almost obsessive collecting. Going out to retrieve materials from other towns, on foot, was quite the travail, but always rewarding.

The children's wing became a giant library, filled with all the paperback books from the local library that had somehow managed to survive time's rot, alongside every book collected from every other town. Another wing became an electronics wing; a collection of everything mechanical and / or run by a power resource. Yet another became devoted to clothing and clothing repair and maintenance supplies; everything fabric-related sat waiting for the Vagabond and other potential fort-mates to leap upon them with glee.

Repairing the armor was first on the list for the Vagabond, but most of the non-protective pieces of the uniform had long since been torn to shreds and bloodied. Digging through the pile of long sleeve coats, a long sleeved blue coat with armor strapped to it stood out. The strapped-on upper arm guards, spraypainted with an unfamiliar orange symbol, looked to be in terribly great shape after being discarded for who knew how long, and the black leather gloves shoved in the coat pockets were also looking quite well-kept. Apparently the apartment complex they had been dug up from was a great place for preserved items; the Vagabond kept this in mind for later.

Attaching the flak jacket to the blue coat was simple and looked stylish in a rugged sort of way; along with an easily patchable pair of blue jeans, it was a hardy and workable uniform all around, and the dented helmet required only a ball-peen hammer and a little paint to make it look almost brand new again...at least, that's what the Vagabond presumed it was supposed to look like.

The helmet fit perfectly and meshed well with the rest of the modified uniform, pleasing Vagabond to no end. Though the jacket seemed a touch too snug, Vagabond didn't mind, and continued suiting up for the daily adventure that was surely to come.

Marching up to the roof with the fancy pair of binoculars that had been dug out of a wrecked armoury, Vagabond took to the perch to begin the morning ritual of scouting out areas that hadn't been visited yet and to keep guard of incoming threats.

For a good ten minutes, the sizzling hot morning seemed highly uneventful, but the sounds coming from the direction of the decrepit facility in the distance drew Vagabond's attention.

Loud banging, metal grinding on metal, the whole works.

Blasted Aperture, doing something crazy again. Whatever it was, it was worth checking out with extreme caution. Pulling the binocular strap over the helmet was difficult, but Vagabond made it work; they would be essential to making sure the coast was clear on this trip.

Going back downstairs and grabbing the sharpest fire axe in the pile, as well as some traveling rations and a medikit, Vagabond set out for the Aperture facility.

Bounding through the fields that were once streets, and through the small forest that was once a park, Vagabond arrived in the wide wheat field. From afar, a familiar hut with a tin roof and tin door could be seen. The door swung open, and the hut vomited what looked to be a body into the field. The clanking of metal on metal, accompanied by metallic chirps of robotic voice boxes, two awkward humanoid forms ran out behind the launched object.

The two robots hobbled out and stood over the approximate location of the hurled object. They appeared to be holding some sort of heated debate of sorts, and the lankier of the two reached down and began to pick up the pile on the ground.

The clamp began to pull up a human hand, attached to a human arm.

Oh, they would not have that human!

Vagabond dropped the binoculars and grabbed the axe with both hands, springing up and screeching as loud as possible while charging at the robotic duo, axe prepared to come down upon them and hack the pair to pieces.

Giving what could only have been a terrified shout, the duo jumped back in surprise, the lanky robot letting go of the human's wrist and emitting more robotic noises. They quickly retreated back towards the tin hut, slamming the door shut behind them.

Giving a happy smile of success to the inside of the helmet, Vagabond turned around to inspect the human.

It was quite the tall and sickly looking male, wearing a test subject's jumper and boots, as well as a lab coat spattered with a mixture of blue gel and blood. His arm stayed firmly upright, in the position the robot has left it, which seemed terrifying in a strange way.

An empty look filled his visage, and he appeared to be looking out into the deep emptiness of the sky far beyond the Vagabond. All signs pointed to the man having a serious case of death, however...

Curious, Vagabond removed a glove and held a hand over his mouth and nose. The gentlest of breezes greeted the mildly sweaty skin, and Vagabond smiled.

He was still hanging on by a thread; not by much, but just enough.

Vagabond contemplated getting the trusty wheelbarrow to carry the man back in, but hastily trashed the idea and decided that if the golden rule of patient safety was to be tossed out, just picking him up and running back with him in tow was the best idea.

Setting the axe back in its belt loop and putting the glove back on, Vagabond set the man's arm back down, then picked up his bag, examining it.

Scowling at the large handled sphere attached to it, Vagabond detached it from the bag, letting it unceremoniously drop to the ground before putting the bag around their shoulders.

Too much metal baggage.

Vagabond then stood at the man's shoulders and crouched down, picking him up and slinging him over their shoulder, shifting to adjust to his weight.

He felt quite a bit heavier than he appeared; but then again, limp piles of people usually did, Vagabond mused.

Giving the metal sphere a kick, Vagabond took to treating it like a soccer ball all the way back to the base, finally letting the thing lifelessly roll to a stop in the entrance hall as they continued down to the ICU wing.

The ICU wing was filled with amazing medical machines; Vagabond's limited medical techniques were likely not what he needed, but the machines were capable of doing most anything without much medical experience. Vagabond had used the machine in Room 1 personally on several occasions to treat everything from a fractured bone to simple infections; all things that Vagabond personally had no knowledge of how to properly treat at those times.

Naturally, Vagabond had gotten better with the help of some handy triage and first aid books, but the man looked too far gone for Vagabond's limited knowledge.

The Auto Doc was just what he needed.

Gently lying the man down on the bed, Vagabond took to disrobing him to his bottom layer for the Auto Doc to properly treat him; a task that was strangely easy due to his tendency to stay in the position he had been moved into. He wasn't in rigor mortis, obviously, but whatever was wrong with him was being helpful.

The boots went first, the coat second, and after staring at the exposed metal plating on the jumpsuit for a moment in mild interest, off it went as well.

Vagabond gave a sigh and grabbed a spare rag, walking to the sink and poured a bit of water on it, giving it a light wringing before walking back over and washing off the dried blood and blue gel off his skin before turning the machine on.

_**Automatic ICU Unit 1 activated. Scanning...**_

Vagabond gave a deep sigh and stood back to watch as a flat panel that had been lying against the wall arched forwards until it lied parallel with the man a few feet above him. A soft humming sound emitted from the machine as a nearby monitor flickered on, displaying a basic human shape. A soft white light beamed down at his feet, then traveled upwards.

The first sweep of the light finished, and a distressing chirp filled the air.

_**Vital signs critical. Blood loss detected. Administering morphine.**_

A filled syringe attached to a small mechanical arm shot up from the side of the gurney, injecting the painkiller into his jugular before it began to scan again.

The swifter second sweep brought on a louder chirp as several silver spots illuminated on the screen up his left side, from his leg to his head.

_**Numerous foreign objects and accompanying penetration wounds detected. Foreign object retrieval activated.**_

Several pairs of small pincers shot up from the side of the gurney and extended up to reach the entry wounds. A scalpel joined the pincer up at his head, piquing Vagabond's curiosity.

Was something stuck in there...?

Vagabond walked up and crouched to watch the action at the man's head. There was a small scar that was nearly invisible until the clamp and scalpel quickly grabbed a small tuft of hair and removed it. a small dish of alcohol popped up, and both the clamp and scalpel dunked themselves in and let themselves air dry before slicing along the scar tissue, eliciting a weak grunt of pain from the man. Vagabond looked up, surprised by his sudden consciousness.

His fingers had begun twitching as the other pincers began their work, yanking bullet after bullet out of him and dropping them onto a tray that shot up and moved about to collect the bloodied hunks of metal. The memory of similar treatments filled Vagabond's mind and they quickly pulled a chair over, sitting down to steadily grab his hand.

The clamp at his head peeled back layers of skin, revealing a small computer chip-looking device lodged into his skull, making Vagabond cringe. Whatever it was, Vagabond was terrified to think of what its purpose was, feeling better about the situation and patting the man's hand in a consoling manner as the scalpel and tweezers went to work.

A howl of pain escaped his lips, the sound shaking Vagabond to the very core as the device quickly popped out and was dropped onto the tray.

_**Surgery complete. Administering liquid quick seal.**_

He panted and screamed in terror, and Vagabond shot out of the chair, letting his hand go. A flood of emotions filled the shaken Vagabond, unsure of what order everything should be felt in, if at all, as the small tubes of fluid reached up and applied a clear and rapidly stiffening gel over the entry wounds and across the scar line as the scalpel assisted in pushing the skin at his head back in place.

_**Blood levels critical. Administering saline IV.**_

A clamp locked his right arm in place and a tubed needle was quickly taped in place, pumping in a saline solution. He appeared as if he were contemplating yanking the IV out, but the morphine had obviously kicked in, the moans and actions dulled out, slowing down to a weak whimper accompanied by a eerie stillness.

_**Oxygen levels low. Administering high-oxygen breathing apparatus.**_

A breathing mask shot up from the head board and latched to his mouth and nose, pumping oxygen from a tank behind the headboard into the mask.

_**Vital signs stabilizing. Patient requires continuing monitoring and treatment for approximately 168 hours to ensure full recovery. Please do not disable this Automatic ICU Unit until recovery time has expired. Thank you.**_

Vagabond, shaken and unsure, quickly left the room, leaving the man to the device's guard.

SHHHHHNK!

CRIK. CRIK.

The fire axe had lodged itself in the metal sphere, after nearly an hour of hacking at it. Vagabond sniffed and took a few calming breaths before trying to un-bury the axe's head.

CRIIIIIIIIII-SHK!

Vagabond took a few steps back as the head flew out, leaving a highly damaged sphere to wobble on its remaining handlebar.

The weary Vagabond gave a few tired and tear-wobbled breaths, falling to the floor in a blubbery mess, eventually abandoning the axe to sniffle and wipe away the remaining saline fluids still remaining in their eyes.

Grieving for the obtaining of false fortune: complete.

Now seemed the appropriate time to do something about reversing it. Vagabond stood up, sniffling while walking to the ICU.

For what seemed like hours, all Vagabond could do was sit and stare at the power button, fingers and arms twitching in a silent plea to continue in the path of destruction already at hand. His bag at the side of the chair, ID badge in full display, facing away towards the door. It wasn't something desired to be looked at, anyways.

All things of an Aperture nature were naturally untrustworthy and worthless, after all.

Not complying with the impulsive desire to destroy anything and everything bearing its logo was madness, at best.

Turning to look at the status monitor on the wall, the Vagabond could see that he seemed to be on his last leg anyways, what with cuts, lacerations, bruises, several fractured bones, a broken nose, a handful of gunshot wounds, a critical lack of blood and proper vital functions, on top of enough head trauma to have knocked him headlong into a grave stupor.

Killing him was probably a godsend at this point.

And besides, what if someone needy who wasn't from the bowels of Aperture needed assistance? Why waste anything else on saving this...this...

Vagabond got up from the seat at the foot of the bed and turned away, looking at the door.

There was no point in sparing his life, really...

As Vagabond began to walk out, he gave a deep exhale, drawing Vagabond's attention.

He was looking straight through into oblivion, as usual. Still completely not there at all.

Annoyed, Vagabond walked over and gently closed his eyelids. At least now he looked as if he were properly sleeping, rather in some nightmarish waking dream like he probably actually was.

Vagabond silently turned and realized how close the power button was. It was in arm's reach, just calling out to be pressed by someone who wasn't lying in an auto-doc half-naked and staring off into space.

Slowly reaching out, a small whisper beckoned to be heard.

_What solution are you looking for? Is this going to solve anything for you?_

Hovering a few inches above the power button, Vagabond's hand hovered, hoping to answer the subconscious questioning...whatever it was. Was it some sort of ...conscience? It had a poor sense of timing.

Trying to argue for and rationalize anything began to hurt Vagabond's head, so the decision to terminate the healing process was put on hold.

For now.

Turning around and leaving, Vagabond picked up the bag. He might have brought some interesting scraps from the building out, after all.

Having sprawled out in the living room, Vagabond began emptying the contents. The flat tablets confounded the somewhat technologically-impaired Vagabond, but a simple button press revealed that they were electronic books. With dancing pupils filled with joy, Vagabond swiftly went through and checked all of them, finding that some of the books were not found in the library wing. Giving a quick squeal of delight, Vagabond picked them all up and carried them to the library, putting them down on the reception desk to stick them in according to the sacred Dewey Decimal line-up manual.

The bottom of the last electronic book had something sticking to it; peeling it off revealed that it was a photograph of sorts, displaying a group of four men, the other resident included. All dressed in scientist apparel, Vagabond deduced that it was some sort of team photo.

Probably not important, but Vagabond decided to keep it.

Underneath sat a small pile of folded papers; unfurling them revealed stellar charts by month with hundreds of little notes per chart; a very useful find indeed. Also to go into the library under resources.

Beneath the maps was a giant pile of small plastic squares, labelled with a variety of different things, in four different handwritings. Not sure of what they were for, Vagabond dug through, finding some sort of player with headphones, some battery-like things, and a notebook.

Once it was divined that the player, batteries, and disks all seemed to correspond to each other, Vagabond decided that they all were probably proper electronic equipment.

The notebook was half full, and interesting. The cover simply was labelled "Douglas Rattmann", and looked like a standard art notebook. Opening it and viewing the first image stunned Vagabond; the drawing was stunning and provoking...and strangely warm, like a oversized and fluffy sweater fresh from the laundry bin.

Carefully browsing through the images warmed Vagabond to the core; a familiar comfort filled the former long-time wanderer. It wasn't long before cheerful and inspired tears streamed down, signaling to Vagabond that it was a good idea to stop reading for now and get everything in its place.

Moving the books and maps to the library and the assorted electronics to the electronics wing, Vagabond was unsure of where to put the art journal.

It was a priceless treasure, and that meant that it clearly belonged with all of the other treasures that Vagabond had acquired: Vagabond's personal room.

All that seemed to be left in the bag now were tools of all kinds; things naturally used with machines and whatnot. Into the electronics wing they went.

While looking for a place to sit the bag of tools, Vagabond caught a good glimpse of one of the desktop consoles and realized that there was a thin, rectangular port in the base, about the same size as the plastic squares found earlier.

Deciding to take a chance, Vagabond grabbed one of the number-labeled squares and, once the machine had been successfully turned on, inserted it.

Sitting for a while to figure out how to use the machine, Vagabond discovered a slew of openable files on the square, and selecting a random one to open began playing a movie in the video player, much to Vagabond's surprise.

Stopping the video and removing the square, Vagabond set out to find out what was on each square.

Sometimes it was a collection of different kinds of music, sometimes it was a pile of movies, sometimes it was some sort of audio-visual testing mechanism with odd keyboard controls, and every once in a while, it was a hazardous looking 'executable file', as it was labeled.

There would be no executions today...not yet, at least.

So videos it was.

There were a whole bunch of them per disk, so Vagabond took to sorting through and grabbing the first one, deciding to watch in order.

Anything to distract from the day's events.

The hospital's stock levels for food were decent enough for Vagabond to forgo item hunting for the next few days, providing plenty of time to switch between contemplating pressing the Auto Doc's power switch and watching movies.

It had taken Vagabond nearly two days to realize that, terrifyingly enough, the videos were a collection of memories for one person per single square disk. Someone's brain on file to peruse for whatever reason one would have.

It was sickening, but Vagabond couldn't stop watching. Living vicariously through other people, in what appeared to be a much better time to live, was calming.

The farther up in numbers Vagabond went, the longer someone spent inside the Aperture Laboratories facility, and the longer they did so, the more terrifying their lives seemed.

Skipping through, Vagabond found files that seemingly were those of the bed-ridden monster in the ICU. Not feeling guilty in the slightest, Vagabond decided to watch all of them.

After several videos, Vagabond found it hard to gauge what feelings were bubbling about; something akin to pity, mostly. But within was a recognition that, while a pathetic, perverse, and rage-bent excuse of a human being, he still knew quite a few...useful things.

Still. Pretty pitiful. And fairly unremorseful in most things. About par with most Aperture employees.

It made yanking his life support more difficult to justify, however.

Needed a second opinion.

Needed some thought.

On and off, every day for a week, Vagabond was wracked with conflicting emotions, spending half the time watching movies and the other half contemplating the bed-ridden, half-alive jerk's demise.

He was still a defenseless human being, unlike the others that had been found. His hostility hadn't been assessed.

And he could be useful, if he turned out to be non-hazardous.

NO! No, he was a horrible monster of a human being with a track record of getting people killed and he should be stopped immediately. Just a clumsy, harebrained, moronic health hazard!

The bowl of milled wheat cereal wasn't even appetizing this morning.

A thud rang out from a hallway, and up Vagabond shot, grabbing the axe propped up against the table.

A squishy sounding, rhythmless series of footsteps echoed down the hallway, giving Vagabond the impression that it wasn't one of...those screaming people-things.

Opening the dining hall door slowly and cautiously looking out into the hallway, Vagabond spotted the other fort resident trying to half-crawl, half-walk along the hallway, constantly dropping down in a dizzy stupor after having worked hard to pull himself off the floor. Muttering under his breath in a voice too quiet to hear, Vagabond watch for nearly a minute, trying to decipher what he was saying via lip-reading.

Giving up after it proved fruitless from all his confused wobbling about, Vagabond sighed and propped up the axe in the doorway and walked over to help him up.

So darn pathetic.

"Oh! Hi! Thank...ugh, thank goodness there's...augh, so dizzy..." He flopped against Vagabond and rested his head, falling silent for a few moments while Vagabond dragged him into the dining hall.

He quickly dropped his arms and head against the table, giving a sigh of relief. He was a terrible sight to see; rather than looking naturally thin-framed, he looked like a walking corpse.

Vagabond could easily do him in with a good, solid gut punch, probably. Definitely not hostile...but very much emaciated and tranquilized.

"Thanks, lady. I'm feeling kinda...spinny. I'm guessing it's from...some sort of painkiller or something..."

...Lady? Nobody had ever called Vagabond a 'lady'...well, nobody called her much of anything. Well, it felt nice to hear, anyhow.

"Are we...in the facility...?"

Vagabond, not feeling very vocal as usual, waved her hands horizontally, perpendicularly over each other, with a bit of force and an added 'negative' look to her face; arched down eyebrows and pursed lips. Her hand signal for 'no', a very affirmative one at that.

Once she realized that he hadn't seen her movement, she moved into his peripheral and motioned 'no' again.

"Oh, the...the hand things...you mean no...right?"

He looked exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open. It was probably best to let him sleep off the painkillers.

It didn't take much time; he was unconscious within about a minute or so.

She eyed the axe in her hands, thinking for a second.

...No, she should wait until he was less sickly and less loopy. Than she could decapitate him in his sleep.

...He was shivering like a tiny furless dog. He needed a blan-NO HE DIDN'T. He didn't need it.

Yes, yes he did.

Vagabond sighed, setting the axe on the floor and walking to the bedding area of the linen wing and returned to cover him up.

He probably required supervision, too, to assure he didn't wake up and have another fit.

A nice excuse to try and eat again.

The food looked a bit more appetizing now anyways.

He awoke slowly while Vagabond was washing dishes.

"Hello, lady? Is that you?"

He sounded a bit more rested, at least.

She walked out to affirm his query, wiping her bowl dry with a dish cloth.

"Oh hello. I...I don't wanna be rude, but I'm thirsty. Could I get a glass of water?"

Vagabond gave a soft smile of affirmation before walking back into the large kitchen shack and fetching him a large glass of water.

"Thank you, lady."

He shifted his eyes to the left suddenly, glaring. She followed his line of sight, seeing nothing but a few more cafeteria-style table and bench layouts like the one they were using to dine on.

He looked back at Vagabond, smiling but looking a bit unnerved.

"...So you're the only one here except me, huh?"

Vagabond nodded yes.

"Oh, well...that's okay, I guess," a nervous laugh escaped his lips. "Not like I'll have to worry about a silence or anything..." Another nervous laugh before taking a long drink of water. "So! Hi. I'm..." He looked to his left again, this time turning his head. "Is that alright?" A pause, then he continued. Vagabond followed his gaze again, wondering whom he was addressing. "Well, cat's outta the bag that he's broke now; might as well!"

He cleared his throat, then looked back at Vagabond. "I'm sorry about that. He's being a jerk, as usual."

Vagabond, quite perturbed, looked back at him.

"I'll try and explain this as best as I can; it's gonna sound really crazy, I know, but just stop me if you get lost, okay?"

Vagabond gave a slow, worried nod, with a creeped out look on her face.

"Okay, so, um...I am...well...okay, how do I say this? I'm so...I don't know how to describe it, and goodness, my voice sounds so funny!"

Yet another nervous laugh. He didn't seem at all fine.

"I'm sorry. What I'm trying to say is that...okay. This...this is not my body. This...this is the body of the guy I had, at some point, worked with. His name is Nathan. My name...well, used to be Girard. The guy I'm talking to, his name is Richard. I know you can't see him, but us two, and a bunch of other people, have been implanted into Nathan's head, and we're stuck here. But we're fine! Nathan's fine too...we think. Long story, but while we were trying to fix his brain up, everything went to hell in a handbasket, and we broke him. So somebody had to jump in and get him moving, so I did. I asked Rick to help me, because I'm not really an 'explore scary, unknown places' person." He paused, looking at Vagabond, trying to read her expression. "Are you still with me?"

Vagabond gave a shaky nod yes, garnering a smile from the man in response.

"Okay good. Basically, we're the worst case scenario of a very long and very failed scientific experiment, trying to fix a problem in Aperture Science's management. ...Do you know what Aperture Laboratories is?"

Vagabond nodded, then began to gesture. First she illustrated a hill, then gestured between them, pointing down towards the bottom, then drew a circle on the table, finally pointing up at the peak of the mimicked hill.

"Oh, great! Okay, so we're not far away! Are we in Detroit, by any chance?"

Vagabond nodded yes.

"Awesome! Okay, that's the best news I've heard so far!" A less-nervous laugh escaped his lips before he continued. "Okay, so to make it simple, we put a bunch of people's brains into computer files, right? Mine, Rick's, a bunch of others, right? Well, one of them was the CEO of the company, and hooboy, was she upset. So when they put her in this machine to run the place, she went on a killing spree. So I was part of this team to help try and shut off the 'kill everybody' part of the boss lady robot death machine. So they tried to use the other peoples' brain profiles to cancel the death lady's out...really didn't go so well. Eventually it resulted in a good number of the files all getting shoved into one big master file...and then that file ended up in a neural interface chip that got embedded into poor Nathan's head and pretty much downloaded into his head. It was either that, or let the chip burn out and kill him, so it's a necessary evil, kinda." He paused for a moment, again trying to read her expression. "Are you lost at all? Please stop me if so."

Vagabond nodded no, then waved him to continue.

"You're really smart and non-judgmental; I appreciate it. I don't think I would've believed myself if I was told all this, I think. Well, okay, as an added bonus, some jerks messed with all the files before they all got combined and didn't save a copy of the originals, so I'm not really Girard, Rick's not really Rick, and Nathan's not quite Nathan, either. We're all scrambled egg versions of ourselves, but we're kinda working on fixing that as best as we can. I was mixed with all my data work on stellar charting, and they mockingly referred to me as the Space Core. I'm super good with looking up at the sky and telling you just about anything up in the night sky. The sky in Detroit is really nice, if I remember correctly. Didn't spend too much time outside or staring out windows at night, that I can recall. And Rick's a pretty outdoors-y guy; liked hiking on vacations and playing adventure-y video games and stuff, so they programmed him to be like Sly Stallone in Rambo and call him the Adventure Core. He's pretty cool...but sometimes he's a big jerk...LIKE RIGHT NOW." He turned his head to the left again. "I'm saying something really nice about you! Shush!" He sighed and looked back at Vagabond. "I'm glad you're really understanding and like, listening without being really confused. Helps me out, saying this."

Vagabond had decided long ago that he was apparently more of a hazard to just himself than to her, at least on first impression. She'd let him live...for now.

She got up from her seat, and grabbed one of the more time-saving instant noodle meals from a storage bin, along with a package of protein shake mix, and with hot water, quickly blended the two in a bowl. He needed a little something more than noodles and flavored salty water.

After a few minutes, it was all prepared and ready for him to slurp down. Grabbing a fork and a spoon on the way out, she walked over and sat the bowl in front of him.

"Oh, for me? Thank you." A warm smile painted itself across his face, and he gave the bowl a gentle blow before digging in.

She was really regretting this, but seeing a warm smile for a change was nice.

"That was so horrid..."

Vagabond stared at the man balled up on the floor of the living room, a few hours after their brunch, still moaning about the quality of food.

She surmised that it was likely that he finished the entire contents of the bowl in 15 minutes. She was trying to signal for him to slow down...

"Excuse me, lady...are there regular beds around here?"

Vagabond sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Sorry...I just don't wanna sleep on the floor...and I'm feeling really tired and a little nauseous."

She gave in and got up from her seat, walking over and assisting him to his feet.

It hadn't been something she had taken notice to before because it wasn't necessary, but even without the boots on, he was a good head taller than him; carrying him was almost impossible with his long limbs reaching out forever, and letting him lean on her shoulders was fairly useless.

She'd have to partially drag his tired body to the living quarters.

The trip was a bit laborious, even with him helping to half-walk alongside her, but the two managed to find him a nice comfortable bed to sleep in for the night, and an easily accessible bathroom in case his nausea got worse.

It wasn't long before he managed to fall asleep, and Vagabond sighed.

Perhaps the wheel of fortune was turning in the right direction, and maybe it wouldn't have to be so quiet.

How Nathan himself conducted would be the deciding factor.

Softly closing the door behind herself, Vagabond thought long and hard about if she was going to leave for the day.

She decided against it; if he woke up and found her gone, who knows what he would do to the place.

She sighed, imagining a trip back to the fort after a good haul, only to find it utterly wrecked and on fire, the moron sitting on the rooftop, curled in a ball.

Oh no, she couldn't have that.

She'd be better off sitting and watching more movies on the computer squares.


	16. The Courtesy Call

The Courtesy Call

[FACT: A 'callback' is a literary element of a usually comedic nature, wherein allusions are made to a set previously given that tie in to the current set in a humorous manner. It is also used in dramatic settings for emphasis on character development, whether the callback scene it is used in either cements a previously touched upon personality trait, or to show character development and growth.]

[FACT: The twelfth card in the Major Arcana of the Rider - Waite tarot deck, the Hanged Man, is often associated with the tale of Odin hanging upside down from Yggdrasil, putting himself in danger to obtain the wisdom of the Well of Wyrd. The card itself represents sacrifices of the physical self that are needed to be made to obtain a more spiritual or divine enlightenment within.]

Wheatley found it difficult to wake up; his eyes felt slammed shut, nothing wished to move at will, but his consciousness was still something active and alert.

It was silent, and the air had a scent to it, something he wasn't quite used to. Aperture was fairly devoid of smells, with all the scientists either dead or on ice.

It took a few minutes for his body to stop being too numb and stiff to move, and when he opened his eyes, he was greeted to the sight of three people he was incredibly happy to see.

At the end of the bed stood Girard, Craig, and Richard, appearing to be waiting for him to wake up. Something, however, felt off about them; it wasn't just their colorful and non-regulation civilian attire, but he could swear that they looked…to be emitting a very soft, luminous aura.

He chalked it up to him feeling so wrecked.

"Oh good, you're awake." Girard smiled.

"Finally, Fritz's up. Took'em long enough."

"Pardon?"

Girard glared at Richard, something he wasn't prone to doing. "Nate's fine, Rick. Don't be so mean."

"You're gettin' bold there, kid."

"Both of you, please." Craig held his hands up between them. "He's quite unwell. He doesn't need our bickering."

Wheatley grabbed the bridge of his nose. "Where are we?"

"We're currently within some sort of hospital outside of Aperture."

"Oh perfect!"

"There's a lady here who patched you up; you were a big mess when you blacked out last time."

"What happened to me?"

"Well, a few things...are you having problems remembering?"

"I can't recall a lot of things; they all feel very hazy…" Wheatley stared up at Craig. "What's wrong with me?"

Girard and Richard looked to Craig, who crossed his arms and bit his lip. "Well…I hate to say it but…we haven't finished fixing you up yet, and as a result, you're currently suffering a minor case of severe brain damage-"

"What?" Wheatley shot up from his resting position, clinging to the bed sheets.

"Luckily it's only to your memory banks; the rest of your actual brain functionings are as perfect as one could have for a man your age, height, and general health. I checked, just to make sure."

"Oh, that's reassuring." Richard rolled his eyes.

"What happened to me, Craig?" Wheatley's demanding tone worried Craig.

"During the re-downloading process, all of the memory files from the core unit were either fragmented or corrupted. I'm working on fixing that, but without the actual chip unit in your head anymore, it's going to take at least ten times as long as originally predicted. The best I can say is that the bitterly hospitable woman who has taken residence in this abandoned facility hasn't given an indication that you should leave, so lying low here until said time is probably the best option."

"You should run a suicide hotline with that sunshine and rainbows attitude of yours, Fruit Cup." The layer of sarcasm in Richard's tone was thicker than expected, even for him.

"How long is it supposed to take, the fixing?"

"Frankly, the time is indeterminable at this point. Just keep calm, and focus your current energy levels on getting yourself in shape."

Slowly pulling back the sheets, he blushed as he realized that he was only in the bottom layers of his testing suit. Less appalling but still quite disturbing were the number of entry and exit wounds he could clearly see littered through his body, sealed in some sort of transparent and semi-solid medical gel filling in and sticking to the wound pieces inside, grossing him out a touch.

"Is there any legitimate reason why I'm down to my skivvs, and why I'm filled with…bullet wounds, of all things?"

"…well…the best I can say is that it was a series of turret injuries. There's a lot of files dealing with Aperture here, and quite a bit about trying to evade turrets. I suppose you didn't evade all of them."

"I escaped the facility on foot?"

"…Perhaps? A lot of things are really out of place and scrambled; the library's not properly organized and shelved, so to speak."

Wheatley stood up, feeling slightly agitated.

"How did you all get out, then? Surely we all left together…"

The trio nervously looked at each other, none giving an answer.

"What? What's going on here?" Reaching for Richard, his hand went clear through the man's shoulder, causing the image of Richard to flicker.

Wheatley's anger-twisted visage quickly faded and shifted to a pale and horrified expression as he pulled his hand back, holding it up to his face to examine it.

"Well, that's the thing, Nate. …we didn't." Girard gave a hurt look. "We didn't wanna tell you until you were feeling better, but I guess the cat's outta the bag now."

"What the hell are you, then?"

"We're…kinda like little computer ghosts…kinda."

"We're remnants of files pertaining to three of the eight other Personality Cores that were uploaded into your head, alongside the Intelligence Dampening Core, which was used to revive you from your cryofrozen state."

"What?"

"Nice going, Fruit Cup." Richard rolled his eyes.

"No…nonononono…" Wheatley clutched his head with both hands. Upon realizing his head was bandaged, he gasped. "Oh God, everything's gone wrong!"

"Nate, it's okay! We're gonna be-"

Wheatley glared at Girard, making him jump back. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, you're not real! None of you are! Leave me alone!"

The terrified man bolted for the door, wrenching it open and running out into the hallway.

"Nathan! Wait!" The trio shouted and ran after him, causing him to attempt to flee from them faster.

Making a turn down a hallway, Wheatley was greeted with a terrifying sight: a long, gangly mummy-like creature wearing a straight jacket, claws and sharp teeth galore, and beady little red eyes accompanied by shockingly bright orange hair.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, he jumped back as the…thing…charged towards him, causing him to run down the other hallway behind him.

Rick appeared in front of Emotion, holding his hand up.

"Stop right there, Red Eye. Fritz's head is pretty broke right now, so I need you to not bug him until I tell you to, okay? He's not in a playing mood."

A sad whimper arose from Emotion as he slumped to the floor and disappeared.

"Guys, I got an idea!" Girard called out from behind a corner. "C'mere, this's brilliant!"

As Wheatley charged down the hallway, he became suspicious of the fact that the spectres had ceased to haunt him. Slowly removing his hands and looking around, he realized that he had no clue where he was, and he'd have to try and catch his bearings...just as soon as he caught himself from falling over.

Shifting his weight to the right and leaning against the wall, he took a quick breather before continuing to the end of the hallway, propping himself up against a doorframe.

Down the hall, he could see a wonderfully bright light that, against all the logic he possessed, seemed too bright to be sunlight, but not artificial enough to be lamplight.

...Maybe it was sunlight; it had been far too long since he had actually seen it to properly determine its brightness, after all.

A deep humming filled his ears,and closing his eyes brought to mind images of a bright blue beam of wavering light, shooting across his frame of reference. The humming almost sounded like a buzzing sort of singing; and for whatever reason, the tune made him feel terribly paranoid and terribly antsy.

He was seriously as damaged as the ghosts had made him out to be, surely. The more he tried to make everything he was experiencing...fit...the more it broke apart, leaving a burning pang of sickening madness and guilt that kicked his feet out from underneath him, leaving him to slide down the door, curling up in the fetal position.

There was a reason for everything, this was true. But everything he was trying to make logical was falling apart, leaving that numbing guilt, a sick taste in his mouth indeed. He had to stop thinking of everything.

Maybe the woman they suggested would help. First he had to find something decent to wear.

Looking up from his seat on the ground, he found that the ghost of Richard had finally found him and cornered him against the door.

"Boo."

Wheatley screamed and reached up for the door handle, spinning the handle just enough to let himself scramble in and slam the door behind himself, locking the door for safety precautions.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS, NOW GO AWAY!"

Taking a few short breaths, he turned around, expecting either Girard or Craig, but neither stood there. In his infinite luck, he had stumbled upon a small clothes washing area. Smiling softly, he began going through clothes in peace, trying to find a shirt and slacks, ignoring the horrid stench pour off of him for the time being.

Who knew how long he had been unconscious; grooming could wait a few minutes while he found appropriate attire.

He jumped as a soft and cheery voice called out from behind a washing machine.

"Hello?"

"...Hello there?"

A young woman wearing a vermilion dress and a comically oversized sun bonnet popped up from behind the machine.

"Hello, Fritz! How are you feeling?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm asking you how you are..." She walked toward him as he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself to both save a speck of dignity and to shield the young woman's eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. I've seen you in your underwear before. I wasn't peeping, it just happened. Anyways, it's not a bad thing; I'm old enough! But you look sick. Are you okay?"

"...Are you the woman they spoke of?"

The young woman laughed, blushing slightly.

"Oh, no, of course not! No, no, I'm not her. She's a lot taller than me...but not as tall as you. Only Red Eye is as tall as you."

"Who?"

"My friend. He's very nice."

Wheatley gave her a look.

"I'm sorry! You don't know my name anymore, do you?" She gave a frown, then held out her hand. "Everyone else mostly calls me Curi."

"...'Curi'? As in, Marie?"

"Marie? Who's Marie?"

"Marie Curie...? Ring a bell?"

"A tiny bit. I wasn't very good at school," she pulled her hat up to reveal a pair of ears heavily wrapped in cloth bandages. "being deaf and all."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, luv. I didn't realize."

"I'm really good at lip reading, so it's okay." She gave a smile and pulled her hat back down. "So...are you okay? I can feel that you're scared...and maybe guilty about something? They asked if I would come and make sure you're okay..."

"...'they'? You mean...the ghosts?"

"Mr. Rick, Mr. Pink, and Spacey asked if I would come and check on you. Said you were afraid of them. So I said, 'well, let me talk to him!' So here I am!" She smiled widely. Wheatley reached out and attempted to grab the brim of her hat; his hand went straight through it, causing a refraction of light, and Curi to frown.

"Sorry. I can already tell that you're gonna be upset. Please don't be mad...or even scared! I won't hurt you at all!"

Her sudden panic caused him to steel his resolve. "I'm...I'm fine."

"You just had a bad accident and, well, we're here to help! All of us are here to help you!"

"...'all of us'?"

"Mhm!" Curi nodded yes very vigorously. "There's me, and Spacey, and Mr. Rick, and Mr. Pink, and Red Eye, and Miss Morality, and Mr. Intel, and then there's you and Mr. Nathan...but you two are the same person, so you only count as one person! I forget sometimes, sorry."

"There's two of me?"

"Well, there's you, Fritz, and then there's Mr. Nathan, the human you. That's what Spacey told me."

"So I'm...two different people?"

"Yup! Well, maybe, I mean, you, Fritz, are very fritzy, and even though Mr. Nathan isn't in charge, you're acting a lot like him."

"Wonderful. I wake up from a terrifying ordeal to find my only friends are still popsicles and I'm not even me anymore." He tossed his arms up in the air, losing grip of the blanket. Realizing his position he turned red and bent down to grab it and re-secure it around his waist.

"I told you Fritz, it's okay if you stand here in your underwear."

"It's improper to stand around a woman you hardly know in just your knickers and an undershirt." Wheatley corrected. "And who is Fritz?"

"You, silly!" Curi laughed. "You're the fritzy Intelligence Dampening Core! I like Fritz more than Wheatley, so I call you Fritz."

"Wheatley...that name is familiar." A rush of broken images and sounds filled his inner vision, alerting him of something that should have been obvious.

That burning pain of guilt stabbed him in the chest, now joined with feelings of rage, malice, and loneliness. Whatever he had gone through, it became less and less favorable to obtain the recollection of.

"It's what you call yourself, silly! I bet it's because nobody wants to go around calling themselves the Intelligence Dampening Core."

"Intelligence...Dampener...?"

"Don't worry! Mr. Pink and Miss Morality and Mr. Intel will fix you up and you'll remember everything, okay?"

"I'm starting to think I'm rather happy not knowing, if I'm honest."

Curi gave a worried look.

"If it makes you sad, don't think about it. We should get you some food to eat, okay?"

"Is there a showering facility around here somewhere?"

"The room you woke up in has a bathroom. Do you remember how to get there?"

"Not quite."

"Well, Spacey memorized the layout, so I'll ask him for help. You don't mind, do you?"

"Who is Spacey?"

"Space Core! But...Mr. Nathan calls him something else. Girard, I think?"

"Space Core...?"

"_I'm in spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace..."_

The singular line screeched across his skull, causing him to clutch it with both hands and wince.

When it finally stopped hurting him, he looked up to see that Girard was now at Curi's side.

"Are you okay?" Girard leaned in, looking at him.

"In pain."

"We need to fix you up. Grab some clothes and I'll help you guys get back to the bedroom."

Wheatley nodded his head and grabbed several articles of clothing, then stood by the door.

"You stand back, okay?" Girard poked Wheatley's chest as he unlocked the door for him and opened it.

"Okay everybody's he's fine. Get back to work!"

Wheatley looked out to see a mass flickering out of lights dissipate; apparently all of the ghosts had come to observe him.

"There's a lot of us in your head, Fritz, and we're all worried about you." Curi looked up and smiled at him. "Let's fix you up and get you meeting the nice lady."

"Nice? She carries around a fire axe."

"Well, maybe she has a lot of break-ins."

"I hope not, not with Nate in such bad shape." Girard walked out, and Curi and Wheatley followed him. "Although, given the fact that this hospital doesn't have more than one person in it besides you, Nate? Makes me think there's not a lot of people to break into here in the first place."

"What do you think happened?" Wheatley queried.

"Not sure. Maybe nothing. We can ask the lady later."

The trio remained silent as they returned to the bedroom, and although he found the toiletries quite sub-par in quality, he still managed to get them to do their job. Moving at his own pace, he dried off and tossed on the clothing he had dug out; undergarments, a long sleeved blue shirt and khaki slacks, along with a mismatched pair of white socks. Hopefully she wouldn't make such a big fuss about one being an ankle cuff and the other being a runner's sock.

He finished as quickly as his tired body could, and adjusted the collar of his shirt with precision in the bathroom mirror. Ruffling his hair, he noticed the snipped tuft of hair from what looked like a nasty head wound was already growing back, and that his hair overall had grown out considerably, which bothered him deep down but not enough for him to wish to do anything with it.

Although tidiness was paramount, a bit of over-length hair was the least of his concerns for the time being.

...Why it was being a massive internal conflict was confusing, at best.

It was likely some more bad wiring in his head again. He silently wished for his head to properly orientate itself again as he walked out of the room, beginning his search for the woman who lived in the hospital.

It was eerie, to see an entire hospital empty as it was. Some of the walls had been repainted over with clouds and fields illuminated in different levels of weather and light, along with maps of Detroit and surrounding areas, locations marked in either a green or a red X.

He could only fathom what they meant; maybe the woman living there would explain them to him.

Wandering around, he ended up in the cafeteria / dining hall after a while. The smell of something baking tantalized his olfactories; the image of some sort of bread came to mind. Perhaps she was in the kitchen, making something delicious.

Walking into the kitchen, he found a lady-shaped figure in body armor hunched over a sink, her long black hair wrapped up in a bun and shaking as she scrubbed a dish vigorously.

"...Hello?"

She jumped and turned around, her grey-blue eyes scanning him up and down, her hands still clenched on the scrubbing pad and the metal pan.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't sure what was going on in here, but I smelled whatever it is that you're cooking and I was curious. My apologies if I startled you..."

Cautiously setting the pan and scrubbing pad back in the sink, she took her dish gloves off and slowly approached him, a confused look on her face.

"Nate, you should tell her that you're you. She might think you're still me." Girard commented.

"I'm sorry, miss. Name's Nathan, Nathan Spurling." He held out his hand for a shake, making her jump.

Brushing his hand away, she approached closer, looking up at his head.

"I'm sorry, it's a little lopsided; did you cut something out of my head, perhaps?"

She reached up and stood on her tiptoes, pushing his head down slightly to the left as she seemed to inspect the source of the searing pain in his head. The scents of her shampoo and body wash, the dish soap, and the warm sourdough in the oven, even when combined by the grime of the armor, sent tense pleasure running up and down his spine and his cheeks and bridge of his nose to begin to glow red with blood.

"Ugh, is everything alright?"

The relatively soft touch of her hands against the side of his face was not helping.

"I'm fine, you can stop doing that now if you'd like."

She let him go, looking him in the face with the same quizzical look.

"What? …Do you do this to everyone you meet…?" He began blushing brighter, feeling his train of thought for speaking slowly collapsing as soon as it left the station.

She furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips, quickly turning the flood of amorous chemicals in his body run ice cold and dissipate, causing a shudder to roll up his spine and a headache to trigger.

A sharp inhale and a step back, he clutched the same temple she had been so gently examining a minute or so before, wincing as he let his body drop back against the door frame.

Terror and self-loathing filled him, then blended with anger and contempt in a sickly brew of emotions he wasn't sure how to properly manage. Her face filled with shock as she herself took a step back, looking confused.

Ghostly visions haunted Wheatley's sight, each one of hundreds trying to clamor upwards to claim his attention. Dozens of angles of sights on a computer screen, test chambers and back hallways, things breaking and falling apart and dissolving in bubbling pools of acid.

He started wishing he'd just collapse in a pile and have a stroke, hoping it would keep his brain from thinking of anything more that it simply couldn't put together.

Wishing it would all stop surprisingly did the trick; the images faded and flickered away just as soon as they came, leaving him staring at a rather frightened and/or startled Latina in a kitchen.

The smell of the almost-burning bread drew her attention, and she happily abandoned the scene in progress to grab an oven mitt and pull the loaf of sourdough from the oven.

Wheatley let his body slide down the wall, the pain slowly subsiding as he looked down at the floor. As the woman's feet came into view he looked up, and with a blank expression on her face, she handed him a small aspirin-looking pill.

"Thank you, miss." He quickly took to swallowing the pill dry, then pushing his attention back to her. "I'm sorry, my brain's such a mess; it's just tottering off in all sorts of terrible directions. I just need to sit and maybe get something to eat."

She nodded softly, then held up a finger in a 'one moment' gesture.

After walking over and cutting the bread with a nearby bread knife, she placed two large pieces down on two separate plates, She walked over with the plates and sat down in front of him, handing him one.

"Thank you, once more."

She shrugged.

A lady of few words, she was.

Looking up and giving a smile, Wheatley found that the room was entirely too quiet; he felt compelled to make small talk.

"So, you must be the 'lady' I was told about."

The woman looked up from her food, and gave a confused look as she placed her free hand on her chest, mouthing the word 'lady'. She quickly gave a look of mild amusement and went back to eating.

"Um...so, as I said, my name is Nathan and...uh..."

His own stammering was really starting to bother him, as it was causing her to stare at him intently, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"I was just wondering...what your name was...because you seem to not like the term 'lady'..."

She slammed her plate down and scowled. Curi and Girard sat down on either side of Wheatley, giving worried looks.

"Uh oh. She looks mad." Girard commented.

She held her hands out, then pointed to herself with her right thumb. She then crossed her arms parallel, in front of her chest, then stiffened her hands and arms and swung them outwards in an arc. She then used her left hand and gestured a short, straight line over her breast.

"...What?" Curi cocked her head to the side, confused. "I think she's signing, but I don't recognize it...must be a home style. Here, let's ask her if she's deaf, first." As she positioned herself over the woman's shoulder, Girard sighed.

"She heard me just fine last time."

"Well, maybe she's good at reading lips. Let's just check, okay?" She held her hands up, and Wheatley's hands seemed to float up to meet hers. "I'm gonna do the signing for you for this, since you don't know what I'm doing. Okay."

She quickly balled up Wheatley's fist and circularly ran it across his chest a few times, then pointed at her, then poked his ear, then his cheek, in a quick motion.

"There. You just asked her if she's deaf."

The woman quickly gestured with her arms in the unknown sign, then repeated Wheatley's last sign. She then gestured to herself, then poked the top of her ear and then the hole in a quick fashion, then gave an 'okay' sign.

"...Something deaf...I hear...okay? So the first sign is 'not'...or maybe just a sign to say something negatively...? So maybe she was saying she doesn't have a name, either." 

It clicked in Wheatley's head. "Oh! Oh, you were gesturing at a nametag, weren't you? 'No name', yes?" He copied her gestures, which made her smile and give a thumbs up, before going back to scowling.

"How does anybody not have a name?" Girard pondered aloud.

"Is there something I can call you, then? Do you name a nickname, or maybe even a moniker?"

She gave another thumbs up, then took her right hand, pointer finger up, and began to lazily sway it back and forth.

"...Wander? Oh, wanderer!"

"'Wanderer'?"

The woman stopped, then began to give a rapid pace of signing with a single hand.

"Oh, she's spelling! V-a-g-a-b-o-n-d. Vagabond?"

"A vagabond is a sort of wanderer, Curi."

"Oh, I know that; just wasn't expecting anyone to call themselves that."

The woman looked over her shoulder, following Wheatley's gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

She gave another pair of gestures, which Curi quickly deciphered.

"'Head voices', hehe. No need to give her more than a 'yes', Fritz."

"Yes, one of them is aiding me in, well, understanding your sign language. Not much educated on the whole deal myself. Then my mate Girard is to my right-"

She turned and waved at the seemingly empty space to his right.

"Tell her I said hi!"

"He says hello and good morning to you."

She merely nodded, then went back to eating her bread.

"Well, ugh...Vagabond...then, thank you for the bread."

She didn't answer, signing or otherwise.

Finishing the rest of the bread, Wheatley felt mildly annoyed by the lack of people roaming about; perhaps there was more to see elsewhere. There was a terrifying calm within the halls, indeed, and he needed to go outside for some air; it was a touch stale on the inside.

Walking back to his room, Wheatley contemplated what he'd need to collect up for a successful trip, now that he was stable on his feet, more or less.

"Hey Nate? You gonna go out without any shoes on?"

"Good point, Girard. Perhaps another trip to the linen room would do well?"

"Yup."

"I'll help you pick something nice!" Curi gave a wide smile.

"Nice, but functional, remember that Curi."

"Okay, Spacey!" She ran through the wall, presumably charging up ahead of them to do a proper assessment of the inventory.

...How she could do that was beyond Wheatley's comprehension, but by the time he and Girard had caught up with her, she already had several pairs of combat boots collected and ready for him to try on.

Quickly grabbing a pair and tying them on just tight enough to feel snug, he wandered back out to the dining hall, hoping to find an exit from there. "Vagabond" was nowhere in sight now, not even a trace of her.

...Was she a ghost as well, just an illusion of his mind wishing that there was another person around? Even yet, was he seeing around someone, anyone who was actually there?

"...Hello?"

No response, not a sound. An empty void, his voice echoing off the walls.

...She had to have been there. There, on the dividing window, there was the bread she made, with two slices missing.

It wasn't a facade. He couldn't make bread from scratch if he tried, anyhow. Never was good at baking. Good with roasting dead, skinned animals over a spit caught fresh in a trap of his own designs. Good at making stews with leftovers and raptured veggies from the garden and the gardens of neighbors. Bread always ended up burned. That bread was flawless.

...She must have stepped outside for a moment. Or maybe she went for a nap.

...Outside. He needed to step outside. The empty rooms felt increasingly smaller, for some unknown reason.

He turned around and began following worn out lines down and around, finally arriving in the main lobby. The doors were barred shut and chained; never a good sign.

It was one hell of a barricade, that's for sure. But nothing a man of his skill couldn't handle

Locating a pair of loose metal scraps near a chair, he deftly picked the lock and yanked the chains off, letting them drop to the floor before he pushed the heavy block of wood from the door handles.

He opened the doors and a shudder ran down his spine; the sight was clearly from a nightmare.

The concrete paths and blacktop roads were overrun by wild vegetation, for the most part. Buildings looked shelled and torn apart, crumbling from some disastrous attack.

He looked back inside, wondering if he should have checked the bread. No time now. Time to investigate the outside.

He closed the doors behind him, and from afar, a shriek pierced the air. It sounded like a crow being mangled, signaling Richard to appear alongside the strange mummy creature.

"Alrighty, sounds tough. Space Case, you joining in? Lemon Drop, you should go."

"Okay!" She disappeared, flickering out like a shell of light losing its power source.

"What are you...?" Wheatley stared at the humanoid creature, making it look up at him and make a strange growling noise.

"Wow, you're really fried out there, Fritz. You forgot good ol' Red Eye?"

"I suppose so...my apologies."

Red Eye skittered over towards a nearby building, curious and pawing about.

"He's a hearty adventurin' soul like m'self, and tough too. But he's a big teddy bear, don't let'em fool ya."

"What is it?" Girard asked, walking towards Red Eye.

"Has he spotted something?" Wheatley cautiously approached, Richard by his side. Red Eye began waving his arms over his head, making more throaty growls and hisses.

"Whadaya mean, 'pokey squishy hissy thing'?"

"You understood all of that?"

"Yup, only one who does, really."

Red Eye crouched down, as if ready to pounce, then let out a loud, intimidating growl. Something inside replied with the strangled crow-like cry.

"Oh great, here we go!" Richard and Wheatley charged to the door, and the latter was greeted with a flying...something... bouncing from the ground, at his head.

Dodging the flesh-colored monster as it landed and slowly turned around, Wheatley took a better look at it. The four legged, starfish-mouthed bouncing thing gave a similar cry to before, and it sounded angry for having missed latching to his face.

"Want me to handle this, Fritz?" Richard offered.

"What the bloody hell is that thing?" He looked around frantically, realizing the scraps in his hands would likely not do enough damage to the creature before him in time. He needed something sturdier and heavier.

Looking around for something to use in defense, he found nothing. He began to run back for the hospital, and in his haste, neglected to observe the ankle-high pile of rubble he tumbled right into, barrel rolling across the broken blacktop.

The creature saw its chance, having pursued him thus far. It leapt at his head once more, and if it wasn't for a spark of good fortune, it would have landed directly on the base of his neck. Instead, Wheatley rolled to the side, letting the creature land on its back legs.

"Alright, Fritz. Shove aside, it's my turn to save your hide."

Wheatley's entire body went numb for a moment, then felt his body moving of its own volition. It slowly pushed itself up, charging at the door and, to his surprise, took focus on the chain that had once held the door shut.

"Here we go!" Another shrill screech pierced the air, and a forward roll caused the head-leaping monstrosity to fly over Wheatley's body and smack into the door, stunning it.

"Nice! Bought time!" Richard grinned and made Wheatley's body reach down to grab the chain and face the creature again, which was attempting to right itself.

"Great, the gaping hole of the underbelly is exposed!"

"Right with ya, Fritz." Richard straightened the chain out like a whip and cracked the links, smacking against the underbelly like a drum.

The creature, taking umbrage with the chain, flailed and screeched. Long, sharp spikes that vaguely resembled animal-like teeth attempted to clamp onto the chain, but only succeeded in clinging to it.

"GODDAMMIT!" Richard snarled and snapped the chain back, popping the creature up into the air. "I ain't a Belmont, but I'ma try real hard!"

As the creature came down, shrieking and trying to right itself, Richard swung the length of chain at it, sending it flying back and against a wall. It gave a sick, gurgling sound as it slid down the wall, and fell to the ground in a heap.

"Richard, I think it's dead."

"Wait a second...haven't ya ever seen a horror movie? Give it a few seconds, take a step, and if it still doesn't move, then keep goin'."

"...Right, because horror movies are well-noted as factual documentaries." Wheatley sighed and approached the apparently dead creature, bending down over its still body.

Whatever it was, it was terrifying and smelly.

He grabbed one of its back legs and picked it up, letting it flop about slightly as he slowly stood up.

"It's just gonna disintegrate, Fritz! Put it down."

"No, I want to ask her what it is. I'm going inside before any more of these things pop up, and I'm taking this with me. There's nothing you can do to stop me."

Richard sighed as Wheatley walked inside with the creature in tow.

As he opened the door that was still ajar, Vagabond stood on the other side, dressed in full body armor and wielding her trusted fire axe. The panic from earlier filled him, but he took a deep breath and attempted to remain calm and cool-headed.

She stared at the creature in his hand and her eyes went wide. Perfect, he had the opportunity to speak first, take control of the situation. A swell of confidence filled him, and he replied to her stare.

"Don't worry, Miss Vagabond, it's dead. Fairly easy to kill, really."

She looked back up at him, a surprised look on her face.

"…What? You don't think I could have done this myself? You underestimate my physical condition, Miss Vagabond."

She gestured 'no', then appeared to gesture the presence of two things in mid-air, then drew an 'x' through the first segment.

"Hm…oh. Oh, it's the 'Miss', isn't it?"

She nodded yes.

"My apologies; just being polite." He waited for a moment, and an awkward silence filled the air. "…Are you going to let me in, at least? This thing is dead, after all."

She took a step back, and Wheatley walked in. She slammed the doors shut, and he dropped the chain at her feet.

"Do you know what this is?" Wheatley queried, holding it up to her face. She gave her sign for 'head', and followed it with a bouncing motion, bending her arms and legs to mimic the appearance of a kangaroo.

"A head-kangaroo?"

She gestured 'no', then gave the kangaroo-esque motion a second try, this time emphasizing more on her leg bouncing.

"Oh! Head-bouncer?"

She gave a thumbs up and a smile.

"Where did it come from?"

She shrugged, then walked past him to re-secure the door.

"You don't know...? How could you not know?"

She chained the doors, then slid the heavy plank of wood between the door handles.

Vagabond turned around and sighed, approaching him. Her face turned into an angry snarl, and she roughly poked his chest with a prodding finger, then gestured to the floor with her inner fingers curled up, her thumb and pinkie fingers sticking outwards.

"Hm?"

She then pointed at the door, then gave her 'no' sign.

"Are you..saying I'm not allowed to leave?"

She grabbed the wrist of the hand still clinging to the 'head-hopper' and grabbed the creature with her other hand.

This was his chance, he realized.

He clamped down on her wrist with his spare hand.

Warm, soft, solid most of all. A flicker of realization grounded him, and a brief laugh and a smile of relief graced his lips momentarily.

She looked up at him, wondering what he was doing.

"You...you know you can't hold me here against my will...right? Not that I wouldn't stay here but...but making me stay is...is called entrapment here in the States, I think..."

She shrugged, then pulled her arm away from his grasp with little effort, the slid the creature from his other hand, splattering some of its blood on the floor.

"You can't force me to st-"

His protesting earned him another glare which sent his mind reeling, trying to defrag all at once again.

It was less painful and more paralyzing, leaving him in a state of numb shock as she began walking away to the kitchen, seeming to not notice his condition.

As the grainy visions subsided, he could hear chopping sounds coming from the dining hall.

Was she...?

He wandered in, and saw that the kitchen door was open, the sounds pouring out of it.

"What are you doing?"

Vagabond poked her head out, then held out a yellow slime-covered cleaver, pointing it towards the nearest bench.

She was. He wasn't curious to know what she was doing so much anymore.

The sounds of chopping, tossing, metal-on-metal, shaking seasonings from their containers, running about, cupboards being opened and closed, the oven kicking on, and finally she emerged, gesturing for him to keep seated as she walked out of the dining hall.

He feared what she had done with the thing.

She returned with a familiar bag; his work bag, splattered with Repulsion Gel and blood with the top ajar, and a large roll of paper.

She dropped the bag in his lap, then spread the long parchment across the table, revealing what appeared to be the hospital's blueprints, marked with the same red and black x's that he saw on the wall maps earlier, along with red circles around several of the rooms.

"...um...very well-drawn; you do this yourself?"

She narrowed her eyes, then poked one of the circles, the closest of the red-circled rooms to what appeared to be the dining hall.

"Yes, I see that. What is that all about?"

She pointed to his bag, then back to the red-circled room, then made an odd gesture; pressing her fingertips together and holding them at an angle, she ran the tips against each other, which appeared to Wheatley to be something akin to milking a cow at an odd angle.

Curi sensed his confusion, and appeared next to Vagabond.

"No, no!" She copied the gesture. "Repair! She wants you to repair something, probably a broken thing in the room."

"Repair? Honestly? That is not how to gesture a need to repair something. That is milking a bloody cow to me."

Vagabond scowled.

"Repairing something...you need a wrench, usually." He began to mimic the movement of using a wrench with his left hand, the hand he typically used a wrench with. Vagabond looked at the movement quizzically. "You like this better?"

She nodded her head yes.

"Okay then, I'll give the gesture...twice, like this." He gave a tightening motion with his invisible wrench twice, then stopped. Vagabond then copied perfectly, then gave a wide smile and a thumb's up.

"Okay then, you want me to repair something, then? Repairing isn't exactly my specialty, but I'll give whatever it is a look-see."

She began folding the map up until it was small enough to fit into his work bag.

She helped him up and led him to the room, which looked like some sort of maintenance room. Inside, he could see exactly what she was referring to; the boiler was leaking and fizzling.

"Ah yes, I can easily repair this. I'll need some scrap metal but-"

She pointed out a small box of scraps towards the back wall.

"Perfect!" As he approached the box, she turned on a light, then disappeared from his side. As he bent down to retrieve the box, then door slammed shut behind him, and clanking signs from outside the door alerted him.

"Hey!" He charged the door, then attempted to open it. The door was locked, it seemed. He rammed his shoulder into it a few times, but it simply didn't budge. "You can't lock me in here! This's inhumane!" He banged against the door, hoping she'd take him seriously this time about holding someone hostage as she was.

After a minute of banging endlessly against the door, it seemed she wasn't.

He waited for a few moments, then sighed deeply and slid down the door as Girard flickered into view.

"I think she's seriously messed up, Nate...really not a good choice candidate for negotiating with, ya know?"

Craig soon materialized beside Girard.

"Indeed. However, contrary to your belief, we are far from harmful to your psyche, unlike her."

"She'll probably let you out once you finish fixing this thing." Girard tried being optimistic, even while Wheatley was not.

Another apparition appeared with his arms draped around Craig's neck, leaning against him; dressed in long sleeved cobalt blue pyjamas and a blindfold, with long blue hair and a warm smile on his face.

"We'll keep you company. I can recite to you any story you want me to."

"Ugh...if you want..."

Curi walked through the door, sitting at Girard's feet. "I'll wait with you, too!" She gave a big warm smile and wiggled her feet. "If Intel's telling a story, I wanna hear it!"

Rick, along with Red Eye, appeared near the box. "Need some help, Fritz?"

"I can handle this project myself, thank you very much." Wheatley walked over and grabbed the box, then began examining the damaged bits of the boiler.

He was shocked as the head of a young woman with bobbed black hair and a bandaged lower face joined him in examining it.

"Gah! How many of you are there?" Wheatley shouted, causing her to pull back, crossing her arms and glaring, before pulling away and sitting down next to Craig and 'Intel', as he was called.

"Hey Fruit Cup, give Silky something cheery to read for once."

"Ooh! Can you give him a fairy tale?"

"Ugh, not another fairy tale."

"How about Rapunzel?"

"I'd fancy hearing a few fairy tales, if you have any."

"Don't encourage 'er, Fritz!"

Craig pulled a large book of fairy tales from his suit coat, handing it to Intel, who promptly plopped on the floor. "All in favor of Rapunzel?"

"ME! ME!" Curi waved her hand frantically.

"Better than silence." Wheatley replied.

Red Eye dashed across the room, dropping in front of Intel and the now-sitting Craig, hissing.

"You too? Ugh." Rick facepalmed, then sat down next to his beady-eyed compatriot.

"All against?"

"I hate fairy tales." Rick griped.

"Too bad, you're the only person who objects. So Rapunzel it is!"

As Intel flipped through the pages, Wheatley bent down and grabbed a rectangular piece of metal and sized it up with one of the holes.

"Ah! Here we go..." He cleared his throat. "'Once upon a time there was a man and a woman who had long, but to no avail, wished for a child. Finally the woman came to believe that the good Lord would fulfill her wish. Through the small rear window of these people's house they could see into a splendid garden that was filled with the most beautiful flowers and herbs...'"

Wheatley smiled. Well, it was better than silence, after all.


End file.
